The Book, the Brit and the Idiotic Boyfriend
by CitrusFruitsAppreciationClub
Summary: Oneshots about Alfred and Arthur's life at Hetalia Academy. From the blackmail and 'complex social experiments' to paintball guns in detention, it's not exactly the most normal of schools. WARNING: Contains swearing, fluff and bad jokes, not necessarily in that order. Updated weekly (now complete)!
1. Period 1: PE (For Public Embarrassment)

A/N I am so sorry, I really am... So, this is my way of avoiding revision. I hope you enjoy, and please leave a review!

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, and I can't think of a witty way to say I don't.

Anna X

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Alfred pouted, looking over at his boyfriend. As usual, Arthur had oh-so-accidently forgotten his PE kit, and got to sit out to the side, reading whatever boring stuff he was into at the moment. The Brit said it was because he 'valued the flow and the art of quality literature'. Alfred thought he was covering up the fact he sucked at sports.

"Jones, your turn to referee," yelled the teacher, throwing the whistle to the boy, who just caught it. Sulking slightly (now his team was BOUND to lose without the Hero on their side…) he walked to the side of the court and stood next to Arthur. Peering over at the cover of the book, Alfred wrinkled his nose.

"Shakespeare, Artie?" he asked, "Really?" Arthur scowled.

"So? I value the flow and the-" Alfred put his hand over his boyfriend's mouth.

"I know, babe," he said, looking down at the page he was on. Arthur must have been annotating, because there were a number of words underlined… Before he could see exactly which ones, Arthur had slammed the book shut.

"Don't you have a game to referee?" he asked sourly, with a hint of anxiousness to his voice. Now curious, Alfred leaned over and tried to pry the book out of his hands.

"Why won't you show me?" he whined, before breaking into a wide smirk, "Wait, I know! You've been doodling 'Arthur Jones' all over the pages and don't want me to see!"

"No."

"Finding the perfect speech to profess your undying love for me?"

"... Really?"

"Using it as a cover to hide the fact you're really having erotic fantasies about last night?"

"Did Francis put something in your burger?" Arthur raised a thick eyebrow, before giving the other boy a push in the opposite direction, "Now go do the bloody PE you love so much."

"Mhn, okay babe…" said Alfred, turning away. When Arthur relaxed slightly and lessened his grip on the book, he whipped back around, snatched it from his hands and opened it – Haha, you can't fool the Hero! There were no 'Arthur Jones' doodles, but as Alfred leafed through the pages, holding it high up and out of his now angry boyfriend's reach, he noticed that all the underlined words seemed to be coming together into another story, one rather... Different, from the one being told in 'Hamlet.' Maybe Alfred hadn't been too far off with that last guess after all…

Alfred grinned, before grabbing Arthur, hoisting him up into his arms and running towards the PE store cupboard.

"Y-you git!" snarled Arthur, fisting his hands into the front of the American's jacket to stop himself falling, "What the hell are you doing?!" Alfred only smiled wider.

"I'm going to help you rehearse your Shakespeare, Artie~" was all that the rest of the class could hear, before the cupboard door slammed shut ominously.

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A/N Review, or, um... W-wow, I suck at this... *hides in emo corner*


	2. Period 2: Assembly

A/N Hello again! This one is a little bit longer, and I hope you enjoy! I'm going to try to update this weekly...

Thankyou to polarbear1805 for reviewing and to everyone who followed/favourited :3 *throws cookies*

Disclaimer: Hetalia is not and will never be mine (it's probably for the best)

* * *

It was that time of week again.

"Okay git," Arthur snapped, as the two filed their way into the hall, only a_ few_ minutes after the other students (for reasons Arthur did not want to mention), "Just to let you know, if you embarrass me again, you will be sleeping in the garage for the next year."

"Aaw, I wouldn't dream of it, Artie," Alfred smiled sweetly, causally wrapping an arm around the Brit's shoulder and pulling him uncomfortably close.

The assembly hall they had at Hetalia Academy (or 'amphitheatre', as Professor Vargas, the headteacher, liked to call it) was arranged in rows, each one slightly above the other, all facing towards the bottom of the room where the teachers stood and 'imparted their knowledge to the younger generation'. Today, Mr. Beilschmidt, the intimidating PE teacher, was stood there. Oh joy, another half hour of being told to join the football team…

As the two students began to walk awkwardly down the stairs, Arthur trying to push the insistent American away, Mr. Edelstein, the music teacher, tapped Alfred on the arm.

"Separate rows, please boys," he said, while staring pointedly at the clock, "We don't want you causing disruption." Alfred sighed and let go of Arthur's shoulder, before sitting at the end of the row. Wincing and massaging his shoulder (was it dislocated?!) Arthur sat down in the row in front of him. The assembly had barely begun, when a familiar voice appeared next to his ear.

"That idiot! I mean, like we would ever do that…" Alfred growled, "And did you hear him, 'causing any disruption'?! He's just pissed that Ms. Héderváry dumped him and now he's jealous of our undying happiness and love as a couple and wants to SPLIT US APART to keep us away from each other!"

"… Whatever you say, love," Arthur mumbled, while still trying to make it seem he was looking at the front. I mean, Alfred could get into trouble but he was not getting dragged down as well. Not this time. Meanwhile, Alfred continued his rant.

"And look, he's even bored of this himself, just look. He's staring at the door to the music room again… I swear there's something going on between him and that piano of his. We should find out…"

"Shut it, wanker," Arthur whispered. Mr. Edelstein had turned and was now glaring at the both of them. Shit.

"Wait, maybe that's why they broke up! Ms. Héderváry was too jealous of Mr. Edelstein's steamy love affair with his beloved musical instrument, so she dumped him in a fit of rage. So now he's trying to win her back through his separation from the piano for this long duration of time, but she refuses to re-grant him her affections! You see Artie," he leaned forwards conspiratorially, "_It all makes sense._"

"Why are you talking like Francis all of a sudden?" Arthur said through gritted teeth. The music teacher was definitely looking at them now. "And shut up…" Alfred must have got the message, because for a few minutes, Arthur was listening to the teacher's 'You Are Less Shit at Sport than You Think' (well, that was the implied message) speech with no interruptions. Or so he thought.

Alfred leaned towards him to whisper something, but this time Arthur moved forwards and out of hearing range, trying to signal an end to their conversation. However, just as the shorter boy was complimenting himself on avoiding another glare from Mr. Edelstein, Alfred lost his balance, falling out of his seat and on top of the other boy with a startled yell. Everyone turned suddenly to face what could, possibly, be interpreted as-

"BOYS!" yelled Professor Beilschmidt, "THAT IS NOT APPROPRIATE CONDUCT FOR AN ASSEMBLY!"

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A/N Please leave a review and I hope you enjoyed! I also have, er... virtual cookies! *sweatdrops*


	3. Period 3: Dentention

A/N Hello again!

Thankyou to polarbear1805 for reviewing and everyone who followed/favourited ^_^

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or McDonalds.

* * *

"Okay," scowled Arthur, looking his boyfriend in the face, "Firstly, this is entirely your fault. Secondly, we're already late, so hurry up. Thirdly… You owe me at least seven cups of tea." Alfred laughed.

"Oh Artie," he grinned, "I can tell you've never been in detention before." He slung his bag carelessly over his shoulder, "You're gonna love it." He dawdled slowly along the corridor. Raising an eyebrow, Arthur followed.

* * *

The classroom the detention was held in was on the other side of the school to Arthur and Alfred's last lesson, so it was several minutes after the start that Arthur carefully opened the door. Trying to peer inside, he was immediately pushed in by a 'sheesh, stop worrying, Artie,' and a wave to Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio.

To be perfectly honest, Arthur _should_ have seen this coming. This hindsight, however, was not particularly helpful as he saw all three turn to him, grins on their faces.

"Hi guys!" exclaimed Alfred, walking over and high-fiving all of them, Arthur reluctantly following, "Great to see you could join us." Gilbert laughed and looked up from his video game.

"Well the awesome me, and the other two lesser beings, couldn't just stand there after you two pulled such a spectacle-"

"It was not a-"Arthur began to protest.

"Kesesesesese, we all know you liked it. And after that, we couldn't let you overshadow our reputation…"

"So," said Antonio brightly,"I wanted to outdo you with _my_ public display of affection. You know Lovi gets sensitive about these things…" Somehow, all five boys could hear a faint yell of 'NO I DON'T, BASTARD', before the sound of something smashing. Choosing to ignore this, but glancing warily towards the door, the Spaniard straightened up and continued. "So I declared my love for my little tomato during music class, but he was, ah, less than appreciative…" he cringed slightly.

"I also wanted to spread l'amour," crooned Francis, leaning in uncomfortably close to Alfred. Arthur pulled his boyfriend a little closer and glared. "But for some reason, the teachers didn't seem to like it…"

"Really, amigos, you should have seen Mrs. Karpusi's face," laughed Antonio.

"Um," asked Alfred, "Isn't she, like…"

"L'AMOUR KNOWS NO BOUNDARIES," proclaimed the Frenchman, spreading his arms flamboyantly.

"Okay, whatever you say, dude…" said Alfred, shrinking backwards a little.

"And of course I was not going to let mein friends go to this unawesome detention on their own," Gilbert spoke up, "So I just punched Ivan in the face."

"So that's why you're on crutches," Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"Yep," grinned Gilbert, "Wanna sign my cast?" He swung his leg forwards, to reveal the plaster to be covered in doodles, 'J'adore Francis' and, in large red letters, 'Hetalia Academy's no. 1 pervert!'. Fortunately, at that moment the door swung open to reveal the teacher that would be making their lives hell for the next hour. At least, that's what Arthur had been expecting.

"Greetings, students!" smiled Professor Vargas, walking into the room and stretching, "Today… in detention…" Arthur prepared himself for the worst. Wait, what if he had to scrape chewing gum off the bottom of the desks? Or if he had to clean the school toilets? With his toothbrush! No, he needed that! All the rumours were true! He'd be traumatised for months! He'd be-

"… We'll be having a siesta," the Professor finished, "So, if you all will begin, I will continue with my own…" With that, the head teacher put his head on the desk and closed his eyes. Arthur blinked, unsure of what he just heard.

"Um, sir," asked Arthur, "Isn't this supposed to be a detention?" Professor Vargas opened one eye and looked up.

"Oh but it is, dear child! These desks are most uncomfortable for taking siestas, you know…" With that, he dropped back onto the desk. Gentle snoring followed several seconds later.

"So…" smirked Gilbert, looking at the sleeping teacher, "Let the shitstorm begin!" He pulled out a hockey stick and raised it over Antonio's head, "LET ME KNOCK SOME AWESOME INTO YOU." The Spaniard leapt up and retreated quickly to the other side of the room, before flipping one of the desks on its side, dragging it to a corner and drawing out a paintball gun. Alfred grabbed Arthur and dived behind a cabinet. Francis, meanwhile, opened the storeroom door, and with a chorus of 'Oh Francis, honey~, you've kept us waiting for so long~' it slammed shut.

"Don't worry, Artie," said Alfred through gritted teeth, "I'm gonna be the hero and protect you!" He broke into a smile and patted Arthur's head, ignoring the icy glare he received in return.

"Does this happen every single time?" Arthur asked, taking in the sleeping Professor, the hockey-stick waving Prussian, the wannabe sniper Spaniard and the suspiciously lustful sounds coming from the cupboard.

"Duh," said Alfred, pulling open his jacket, letting a heap of junk food and snacks fall to the floor, "Why d'ya think I bought all this on the way to school?"

"Alfred, you always buy that on the way to school."

"Whatever, dude. Now watch the hero save your ass," Alfred yelled, launching the burger at Antonio, knocking the paintball gun out of his hands. He threw another at the Prussian, but Gilbert swung the hockey stick and sent it right back at them. As the Big Mac hit the side of the cabinet, Arthur raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend.

"Food? You're fighting with food?" Alfred munched on a chip, before turning to Arthur.

"Yep," he grinned, "And I'm gonna win using food. And my hero-ness." Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Ah yes, and where would a hero be without his damsel in distress?" he exclaimed sarcastically, raising a hand to his forehead dramatically, "O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!"

"Stop calling me insane and back me up!"

* * *

It turned out that Alfred was right, because, twenty minutes and one ruined classroom later, the American laughed triumphantly at the defeated Antonio and Gilbert, covered from head to toe in grease and breadbuns. Professor Vargas had slept through the entire thing. It was quite comical, really, thought Arthur, trying not to laugh.

Suddenly, the cupboard door began to creak open, and a tired but satisfied Francis stumbled out. The other four all turned to stare, as he adjusted his blazer slightly, completely ignoring his lipstick-smeared face and neck.

"Mes amis," he exclaimed, "You really must go in there sometime… Now come," he signalled to his two best friends, "We have chaos to create!"

As the door closed behind the trio, Alfred looked towards Arthur.

"Y'know Artie, I think we should celebrate our victory…" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Arthur began to back away.

"Not here, Alfred! Alfred, we'd get caught, are you listening to me? Alfred, get your hands off my- mmph!" The American pressed Arthur up against the wall, their lips locked and their arms wound around each other's necks within seconds, his fingers skilfully running through Arthur's hair. His other arm wound around the Brit's waist and slipped under his shirt, pulling him closer as Arthur let out a small moan. Moving his lips to Arthur's neck, Alfred bit down on the sensitive skin, strongly enough to leave a bruise that would be clearly visible later. The shorter boy whimpered, his arms wrapping tightly around Alfred's shoulders. The American finished the hickey, straightening up and brushing his lips across his boyfriend's cheek. Arthur grabbed hold of the front of Alfred's jacket and pulled him forwards into another kiss.

Footsteps. Oh fuck.

Alfred barely had time to let go of his boyfriend and spin around to face the door when it opened, to reveal a very angry PE teacher. It was, admittedly, not difficult to guess what the pair had been up to. Shirts untucked, messy hair, wet lips, guilty expressions…

"HAVE YOU TWO LEARNED NOTHING?!" Mr. Beilschmidt yelled at Arthur and Alfred, "Detention, with me, tomorrow!"

Needless to say, that night Alfred slept on the sofa.

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A/N Because you *cough* love me so, so much *cough*... *holds out cookies* Review? I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	4. Period 4: Library

A/N Hello again! I hope you all enjoy this chapter ^_^

Thankyou to polarbear1805 for reviewing (By the way, I loved your idea! It'll probably be up in 2 or 3 weeks-ish :3), and everyone who followed/favourited! Also, I only just realised that I've had anon reviews turned off... *sweatdrops* I'm sorry! I will check from now on OTL

Disclaimer: Hetalia isn't mine *sadface*

* * *

Hetalia Academy Library. A calm, tranquil, idyllic environment, where one could admire the graceful architecture and centuries-old knowledge. A place where one could relax, unwind and enjoy the surroundings. A place where one would go for some much needed peace and quiet. Well, until the students arrived. Then, the room was a chaotic mess of thrown paper, arguing couples and perverts on the loose (officially known as Francis and Yong Soo). As usual, the library was a haven of all, frankly, weird shit. Plans were even going around to install a trampoline in the Classical Literature section.

Which was why Arthur Kirkland was stood in the middle of the library, holding a petition. Alone. He sighed. He had at least been counting on Heracles to turn up – I mean, that kid LOVED ancient philosophy books… Looking around, he saw the Greek, at last… Sleeping in a corner, surrounded by cats and Kiku, the Japanese boy Arthur was sitting with in maths. The only other person who had promised to come with him, Alfred, had disappeared five minutes ago and was now talking to Yao, the librarian, about who-knows-what. Leaving his bag on the table, Arthur went over to_politely_ interrupt.

"Excuse me Yao," he said, trying to hide his irritation. He had promised! Was he the only damn person in the school who cared about _real _literature? (Actually, don't answer that…), "But Alfred was helping me with that anti-trampolining campaign, so could you please…" he gestured to the large pile of books stacked up on the cart, "Don't you have all of those to put away?"

Yao shrugged, "Ivan will do them aru. And we were only talking about installing a water slide in the reference section. The library can become the theme park of the school!"

"… So it was you behind all this…" glared Arthur. Yao smirked back and leaned against the cart.

"So what if it was aru?" Arthur grabbed Alfred's arm and pulled him away, glowering over his shoulder in what he hoped was a terrifying and dramatic way.

"Just you wait!" he called, "You will never get away with this!" As the pair walked away, Yao turned to Ivan, who had walked up beside him while they were talking.

"Do you think I should tell him I was joking?" he asked. Ivan shook his head.

"That idiot, thinking we could fit a water slide in the reference section… We'd need somewhere as large as the whole non-fiction section to fit one of those in, da?" Yao's eyes lit up.

"You mean it would actually fit aru?!"

* * *

"…thinking they can destroy my precious Classical Literature section…" Arthur mumbled, as he dragged his boyfriend across the room. Alfred laughed nervously.

"Ah, babe," he asked, concerned, "Are you alright?"

"Absolutely fine," Arthur snapped in reply, "Never been bloody better since that time we used the whipped cream and marshmallows that time your parents were away." This was probably said a little too loudly, since at least half the people sitting at the row of computers were now whispering, in that everyone-will-know-this-by-Monday kind of way. Great. Bloody great.

"… Does this mean we can do it again?" Alfred said brightly, just as loudly. The level of muttering increased. Okay, make that the end of the day. Seething, Arthur reached the table where he had left his bag, only to find it no longer there. He quickly located it.

Lovino, one of Professor Vargas' grandsons, was trying his best to kill Ludwig, the intimidating German. Using Arthur's belongings. While yelling something about bastards and, er, potatoes? Arthur sighed yet again and began to make his way over there, until he saw what exactly the Italian was using to try to break Ludwig's neck.

"NO!" yelled Arthur, running over to Lovino and snatching 'Hamlet' out of his hands, clutching it close to his chest, "That is NOT how we treat Sir Winston!"

"You NAMED your book, tea bastard?" Lovino asked incredulously.

"So?" Arthur replied, "Everyone does it, right?" Silence resonated through the library, like Francis' laugh though the soul of a terrified suitor. Finally, Alfred spoke up.

"Well," he laughed, "I dunno about books, but my dick is called-"

"YOU BLOODY BASTARD WHY THE BLOODY FUCKING HELL WOULD YOU SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT DO YOU HAVE NO FUCKING SHAME YOU SHITTY WASHED UP SON OF A BITCH MOTHERFUCKING FUCKING… FUCKING… er… SIR WINSTON, VANQUISH!" Arthur swiped the book at his boyfriend, stopping before he hit his shoulders and chest. Alfred pushed the book away from his body and back into his boyfriend's small hands.

"Are you trying to destroy me by _fanning_ me?" he asked incredulously. Arthur scowled but stroked the cover of the book happily.

"No," he said hesitantly, before carefully replacing Sir Winston in his bag, "It's a highly difficult magical art! Which... Is why you're not turning into a toadstool." He sighed. "It's just I've heard enough of Florida to last me a lifetime, love. Always promising, never delivering…" With a smile and a wink, he walked out of the library, ignoring Francis' catcalls. All eyes turned to Alfred expectantly.

"L-LIES," was all he could get out, "ALL LIES."

* * *

"You know Lovino…" said Arthur thoughtfully to the Italian, looking down at the book, "You were right, it IS good stress relief."

"Y-yeah…" said Lovino, shrinking away from the Brit slightly, "No problem, bastard…"

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A/N Hope you enjoyed, and please leave a review! I still have those virtual cookies... :P


	5. Period 5: Detention Again

A/N Yay, another chapter! Thankyou to everyone who reviewed/followed/favourited

The idea for this chapter came from polarbear1805!

By the way, I couldn't find any human names for Germania or Rome, so I just made up their first names. *sweatdrops*.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, Sailor Moon, SexyLlama's Escort Services, Photoshop, bloodgutsandmore, Hedgehog Launch or Coca Cola. That's quite a list O.o

* * *

Alfred stared at the clock longingly. Ten seconds, five seconds- The bell rang, and the class, previously with all the energy of a lazy walrus, had all jumped to their feet and stampeded out of the room by the time the last chime sounded. Well, except for two unfortunate souls. Arthur slowly, _slowly_ packed his books into his bag, while Gilbert decided to take his time meticulously counting every pen, pencil and pencil sharpening scattered haphazardly across his desk.

Alfred made it halfway down the corridor before realising why.

He turned and walked back, a sense of doom building. He gulped, before sticking his head back into the almost empty classroom.

"Ah… We wouldn't have detention today, would we?" he said, "With-"

"Yes," snapped Gilbert, slamming his bag on the desk and grabbing his crutches, "Mein grandfather, of all people. This is totally unfair to the awesome me!" he sulked. His worst fears confirmed, Alfred's stomach sank like a stone. His internal organs were halfway to Australia before Arthur spoke.

"I take it you've already written your last wills and testaments…" he said with finality, before gesturing out of the window to the bright, sunny day – almost as if it were mocking them.

"Of course," Gilbert replied, "I've left a pile of horse shit for Mr. Edelstein, signed photographs of myself for the whole school and a Sailor Moon costume for mein brother." His voice carried an odd sense of… Pride. "But it is most unawesome that mein friends aren't here to die with me…" he said, before brightening up, "I shall have to haunt them as an awesome ghost!"

"Well," grinned Arthur, "I left Peter the Crown Jewels, I can't wait to see his face when he tries to claim them…" an evil grin spread across his face, "Francis has a subscription to SexyLlama's Escort Services, and I've asked my brothers to send a suitcase of my finest scones to the school dinner ladies. I will leave a legacy behind, of good, wholesome-"

"Crap," finished Gilbert decidedly, "Now come on, the lovechild of the four horsemen of the apocalypse is waiting…"

Alfred glanced at the pair, and decided not to ask.

* * *

Before they had taken two steps inside the room, they could feel the burning, laser-like glare of a very intimidating PE teacher. Maybe because they were ten minutes late…

"Hello boys," Mr. Beilschmidt glowered. Arthur and Alfred visibly shrunk backwards, unlike Gilbert, who put on a falsified and unconvincing smile;

"H-hey Gramps," he said, "How's it going?"

Without a word in greeting, the PE teacher gestured to three laptops.

"Today, you will be checking the Internet histories of a few… select pupils. Repeat offenders, I must say, so it is of _paramount_ importance," with that, he looked at the trio with a steely glare, "That if you see something unacceptable, you record it and its content in _extreme_ detail. I will be expecting your full reports in three hours time."

"Three hours!" Arthur exclaimed.

"Silence, Kirkland," said Mr. Beilschmidt, not even turning to look at him, "As I was saying, you each have a list of pupils to check, about four each. Make sure to carefully check any website that says it was deleted from the browser history… Before any of you say anything," he said, with a hint of resentment in his voice, "It _will_ take three hours to check them. I always told Vargas free unlimited student wifi was a bad idea…" he trailed off, staring blankly into space. Realising the three pupils were still watching him expectantly, he straightened up, retrieved three pieces of paper from his pocket and slammed one down on each desk. Retreating to the desk at the front of the room, he surveyed them all with his steely glare. After a few minutes, Alfred raised his hand.

"Um, sir?" he asked hesitantly.

"What?"

"Ms. Héderváry is on this list…"

"That is correct. Now get on with it."

* * *

It was around halfway through those three hours of torture, that Alfred realised he was being scarred for life. When he had first looked down at his list – Feliciano Vargas, Ms. Héderváry, Ivan Braginsky and Francis Bonnefoy – he had thought things wouldn't be too bad, with the possible exception of Francis. However, as he worked through said list, his mind grew terrified of what he would find when he finally did get to the Frenchman.

Firstly, there was Feli. Alfred had honestly been surprised he was even been on the list. He seemed far too innocent – correction, had. Had seemed far too innocent. Alfred had always known the kid liked to paint… Just not nude models. (Later in the detention, Alfred would look back fondly to when discovering nude model sites counted as a shock). But thinking about it, the American thought, as he stared at one of the men's perfectly formed chest muscles; he could understand the Italian's motivation.

Damn, how much did the guy have to work out to look like that? Or, the voice in the back of his mind said, how much Photoshop. For the sake of Alfred's own ego, he settled for Photoshop.

Secondly, Ms. Héderváry. Another person Alfred really hadn't anticipated being on a list. He soon discovered why. This revelation caused him to almost yell, and slam down his laptop lid with enough force to break the laptop, table, and floor beneath it. After being shouted at and the whole group relocating to another classroom, a traumatised Alfred (with new, shiny computer), was forced to continue.

An hour later, Alfred never wanted to hear the words 'yaoi', 'uke' and 'seme' for the rest of his life. Nor, would he ever be able to sit through one of the Hungarian's history lessons again. Ever. He was starting to wonder whether a court would consider this cruel and unusual punishment, as he closed the last tab, pale and slightly queasy.

Ivan Braginsky. Unlike the others, Alfred felt slightly prepared for what he was going to be faced with. However, when one is so scared of horror movies that one has to spend the next week hiding under the duvet, and one is exposed to bloodgutsandmore (all your favourite violent and brutal killings, all in one website!) in high definition because of one's new, shiny computer, there is really no other possible reaction other than for one to run for the hills, at a speed that one's PE teacher should really be applauding, because it's far faster than one ever managed to do in lesson. Sadly, said PE teacher was less than appreciative of this explanation.

Fourthly, Francis… Let's not talk about what was on Francis' internet history, Alfred gulped… Let's just… _Not_.

* * *

Arthur, unlike Alfred, had only been given three people to invade their privacy- sorry, _check their internet_. Wondering why, he checked his list, finding Kiku Honda's name underlined with a large, red line, and the words 'CHRONIC OFFENDER'. Ah.

Arthur, having been exposed to far more, let's just say explicit, material than his boyfriend (all completely by chance, of course… What do you mistake him for, some kind of pervert?), was considerably less scarred by the experience of his first two 'targets' – Ludwig and Gilbert himself, causing him to wonder if he was on one of the others' lists. If so… Shit. Although he did manage to pick up some good recommendations (for more accidental stumbling upon – then the screen just froze! For two hours!).

However, just as Alfred ran screaming out of the room, Arthur opened the first webpage from Kiku's history –

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL OH MY FLYING MINT BUNNY WHY?!" He covered his face and sank beneath the desk. Meanwhile, Mr. Beilschmidt looked on with mild amusement, before walking out to find the fleeing American.

"By the way, Kirkland," he smirked, turning around when he reached the door, "ALL of those links need checking." Arthur slowly pulled himself upright, and looked at the internet list. Wha- how many? There had to be at least a hundred, no, two hundred. Gilbert looked around, to see the Brit now huddled in a corner of the classroom, a purple cloud of depression hanging over his head.

"Why me?" came a small sob, "Why me?" Gilbert grabbed his crutches and hobbled over to Arthur's screen.

"Okay, now I want to kn – MEIN GOTT I DON'T WANT TO KNOW." Seeing the webpage, the German fled back to his desk and began clicking furiously, as Mr. Beilschmidt walked back into the room, a ghostly Alfred in tow.

"Kirkland, Jones, you have work, do it," he said, his intimidating aura filling the classroom like a choking, inescapable cloud of doom, "Gilbert…" he looked over at his laptop, "Get off Hedgehog Launch and back to what you were doing."

"It was on Antonio's history! I was checking it for – "

"CONTINUE WITH YOUR WORK."

* * *

By 5pm, all three boys were dangerously close to losing the will to live. Alfred looked drained, Gilbert was falling asleep where he sat, and Arthur was trembling in fear as he scrolled through video after video of girls, with questionable proportions and even more questionable content. Arthur would never look at octopuses the same way again.

All were so exhausted, that when Mr. Beilschmidt finally announced detention over, they could barely drag themselves to their feet. Alfred leant against the desk as he retrieved a much-needed can of coke. Caffeine would help, right?

As the teacher finally left, soon followed by Gilbert, mumbling about 'pranks to catch up on', the American spotted Arthur looking down at the floor, his eyes appearing unfocused. Thinking he might be upset, Alfred put down his coke and wrapped an arm around his boyfriend's shoulders.

"S'okay," he mumbled into his ear, "I'm sure we haven't been mentally warped… too… much." He made to wrap his arms around Arthur's shoulders, but the Brit shrugged it off and pointed at the piece of paper lying by the door.

"Look…" Curious, Alfred walked over and picked it up. What he saw made him almost spit out his mouthful of soft drink, causing him to cough and splutter. Arthur ran across to hit him on the back, before looking over at the paper – causing him to suffer a similar reaction.

_Dear Julius,_

_We have been friends now… for so long. Well, you always called us friends, no matter my protests – of which there were many, if you remember. When I first started here, you were always at my side, whether I liked it or not. I don't like to admit it, but I was always secretly thankful for your help and support. Eventually, we reached the semi-friendship we share now. But the thing is, recently I've started to want us to be... a little more than that._

_What I'm trying to say is… gosh this is so awkward… that over time, my feelings towards you grew – and more than in a friendly way. As much as I have been trying to deny the fact, I am in love with you. And I would really like you to love me too._

_Yours lovingly and hopefully,_

_Wilhelm._

* * *

After they both got over the initial shock and managed to finish reading, there was a moment of deathly silence. Then, both boys simultaneously erupted into fits of laughter. Their earlier exhaustion gone, all they could comprehend was just how terrible this love note - could it even be called that? - was. A little longer than a few minutes later, when they had both recovered, Alfred looked at Arthur.

"What do you think we should do?" he asked, "This letter is awful… Maybe we should just throw it away," he started to walk towards the bin, "It's probably for the best."

"No!" Arthur grabbed the letter from his boyfriend's hands, "Don't you see? We can _help_ him by rewriting it. I know from experience you're very good at writing love notes," he smirked knowingly, leaning his head against Alfred's shoulder.

"Totally!" Alfred exclaimed, "Professor Vargas won't know what hit him and he'll have to accept!"

"We can help Mr. Beilschmidt and earn his respect, which means NO MORE HORRIBLE DETENTIONS," Arthur continued excitedly.

"WHILE KEEPING THE OLD ONE AS BLACKMAIL!" Alfred finished, grabbing Arthur's arms and lifting him into the air, "We are geniuses!" he continued excitedly:

"There is no possible way this could go wrong!"

* * *

A/N Thanks for reading! Please leave a review, and if anyone has ideas for future chapters let me know ^_^


	6. Period 6: Music

A/N Another chapter! Thanks to polarbear1805 and Sho-chan669 for reviewing (and for your awesome ideas :3) and everyone who favourited/followed. ^_^

Also, thank you for pointing out I've been saying Romano instead of Lovino… *sweatdrops at my own idiocy* I've fixed it now.

(For anyone who doesn't know, Feliks is Poland and Mei is Taiwan)

Disclaimer: Hetalia isn't mine.

* * *

"I'm telling you, Alfred," said Arthur, running to catch up with his boyfriend as they walked down the corridor, "He won't notice, I promise!" Alfred shook his head.

"No," he replied, "No fucking way… No way." He shook his head furiously, as if trying to clear a bad memory. Gilbert appeared from nowhere and tapped the American on the shoulder.

"What's the matter, kesese? Did that detention reform you?"

"Yes!"

"But we need to do it now!" demanded Arthur, "It can't wait a second longer!"

"No! We'll get in trouble."

"BUT WE REALLY NEED TO DO IT NOW!"

"Kirkland," yelled a gruff, German-accented voice from the other side of the hallway, "Keep your carnal urges to yourself, and get to your class." Arthur went bright red and Gilbert burst out laughing.

"That-That's not what I meant!" the Brit stammered. Alfred tried not to join in the laughter, instead grabbing his boyfriend's hand and pulling him towards hell- Sorry, music class.

With Mr. Edelstein and his beloved piano. Where, according to Arthur, they had to redraft _that_ love letter. Apparently, all other subjects were too interesting…

* * *

_Le flashback~_

"_So," said Alfred, as the pair finally exited the detention room and began to make their way along the corridor, "When are we actually going to do this thing?" He stopped and looked over the note. "Y'know, we could probably do this thing in an evening if we really concentrated-"_

"_No," said Arthur immediately, "Not in the evening!" His eyes narrowed, "That's our _special_ time…" Alfred's heart skipped a beat. No way was he missing that, just to help some PE teacher. I mean, wasn't PURE AND INNOCENT CUDDLING *cough* far, far more important? _

"_So, er…" said Alfred, sincerely hoping no one had heard that, "What about English? That lesson is super borin-" _

"_I'll curse you." Alfred stopped suddenly, as Arthur seemed to be on the verge of an angry, Godzilla-like transformation. Fearing for his life, Alfred immediately changed his suggestion;_

"_I-mean-it's-totally-not-boring-best-subject-ever," he backtracked quickly, "We could do it in history…" _

"_What, with Ms. 'Hawk-Eye' Héderváry?"_

"… _Point taken," said Alfred._

"_Although I really don't see how she does it," Arthur continued, "Most of the time she just sits and stares at that computer screen all lesson while we work. Does she have cameras everywhere or something to spot us? And I wonder what's so interesting for her to be staring at all lesson…" Alfred paled._

"_QUICKLY_ _MOVING ON," he said loudly, ignoring the odd look Arthur gave him, "What about PE?"_

"_Too risky! He'll see us writing it and even then we actually have to join in the," he shuddered, "Exercise…"_

"_But you never join in!" _

"_The Great Works of Shakespeare called me," said Arthur, spreading his arms poetically. How his boyfriend could say that with a straight face, Alfred would never know. _

"_Science?"_

"_We sit with Francis, Gilbert and Antonio. Do you really want them to find out what we're doing?"_

"_How about geography?"_

"_I'm failing that class," said Arthur, "Maths?"_

"I'm_ failing that!" exclaimed Alfred. Arthur paused. _

"_You know that only leaves us with one subject, right?" Alfred turned._

"_Which one?" Arthur grinned._

"_You'll see when we get there."_

* * *

"_Beethoven, possibly one of the greatest composers of all time…"_ Alfred slumped in his seat and rested his head on his arms. Arthur, sitting a few desks away from him, saw this and raised an eyebrow, reaching into his pocket and taking out the love letter. Alfred glared and turned away. Nu-uh. Not this time.

"_After this, the young Beethoven…"_ Okay, maybe he was bored. More than a little bored. But he would not give in to temptation! Almost immediately, he found himself turning towards Arthur, before stopping himself. No, he wouldn't do this! He was going to sit there, and concentrate, and get the best grades in the class, and stare at Arthur chewing that pen…

DAMMIT.

With a small, resigned sigh, Alfred turned to Arthur. The shorter boy grinned triumphantly, put down his pen (so he was doing it on purpose… Alfred glowered), and threw a screwed up piece of paper across the sleeping heads of Heracles and Feliks, which Alfred caught. He opened it.

'_I knew you'd give in *smirk*.' _Alfred looked towards Arthur and glared._ 'Here's how it works. You write a bit, then throw it back to me and I'll add some more. We keep going like that until it's finished. Nod if you agree'. _He caught Arthur's expectant eyes, and, reluctantly, nodded. He tore a piece of paper out of the middle of his book and started to scribble.

'_Dear my most precious and valued friend…'_

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Alfred was staring to see the good side of this. He certainly wasn't bored anymore, and he had to admit it, writing love notes was kind of fun. Although he was adamant that they would erase at least three quarters of what Arthur had written in the final copy. Most of it sounded like lines ripped off from bad porn movies…

… Which was why Arthur didn't write love letters anymore. Until the one time it actually mattered... Alfred facepalmed. Oh well, at least it was funny for now. But still… Alfred added a quick note to the bottom of his next sentence.

'_Artie! This is a love letter, not sexting…' _ A few minutes later, Arthur threw the paper back.

'_Relax, they're basically the same thing… And anyway, I thought it might help for him to be a little more forward.'_ Alfred raised an eyebrow as he returned the paper.

'_They are NOT the same thing! And I think _that_ is a little more than forward.' _Arthur rolled his eyes as he wrote the next part, and threw it back. However, his aim was, sadly, a little off. The paper missed Alfred's desk and instead soared over his head to hit Mei, who sat to his left. She gave him a weird look and picked up the paper from where it had fallen to the floor. She was nearly on the verge of opening it when Alfred lunged, grabbing it from her hand. Phew, that was close…

"Jones!" came a sharp voice from the front of the classroom, "What are you doing?" He spoke too soon. Alfred sat bolt upright and tried his best to not look guilty – with little success.

"I was, err…" his eyes darted around, "Composing a song!"

Bad move.

"Is that so?" said Mr. Edelstein, without a trace of sarcasm, "Well, we must hear it. Come up here and read it to the class." A cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh erupted from two desks to the American's right. Sending a look that could kill, Alfred desperately searched for an excuse.

"It's not finished yet, Sir."

"That is fine. Maybe I could accompany it on the piano", he walked over to the instrument and sat down. Arthur's 'coughing fit' got worse.

"Um, Sir, I really don't think-"

"NOW, Jones."

_My life is over, my life is over, my life is over… _Alfred thought to himself, as he slowly made his way to the front of the classroom. Fortunately, Mr. Edelstein's piano lid was most definitely down – at least that was one further embarrassment averted. All eyes upon him, he took a deep breath, and began;

"Dear my most precious and valued friend." That bit wasn't so bad. "I have to tell you something extremely important, that I have been hiding from you my whole life. Every day, the only one that occupies my thoughts is you. You, you are the only one I dream of, the only one I have ever loved in this way."

"Every time I see your wonderful, luscious brown hair…" Alfred paused, wishing he didn't have to read the next part, "All I can think of is pouring rich, milk chocolate over your statuesque muscles." The class burst into fits of laughter. Alfred blushed bright red and read on;

"When I wank (every night from all the tension my burning love causes me) you are the only person who comes – in more ways than one – into my fantasy," the class laughed even louder, waking Feliks, who looked around sleepily.

"Not cool guys," he muttered, "I'm tryna' sleep..."

"Your smile is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," said Alfred, grateful he was now on slightly safer ground, "It lights up my day like the Sun, and it makes me the happiest man in the world just to see you happy." A collective 'Aaw' came from the students.

"The only thing better than your smile," Alfred gritted his teeth, "Would be your face of pure pleasure as I thrust into you with my ten inch schlong."

"How very romantic of you!" catcalled Francis from the middle row of desks. Trying his best to ignore him, Alfred continued.

"Everything I do, I try to make you notice me. But sometimes, it feels almost as if we are drifting apart," he said, "It seemed like only a day ago, we were sat side by side in togas. Now, I barely get to see you." Alfred sighed, defeated.

"When we next see each other, be prepared to be pounded into the mattress as a gesture of our everlasting bond," he said flatly, without any trace of emotion. This time, there was an awkward pause, before several people began to giggle, before the class erupted into hysterics. Again.

All he could say was that Mr. Beilschmidt had better be damn grateful. It wasn't everyday you suffered public humiliation for the sake of someone who hated your guts. And also, he _really_ needed to cut out the parts Arthur wrote…

"Although I appreciate the artistic merit," said Mr. Edelstein dryly, "I must criticise your originality. Using lines from amateur movies is not acceptable. E minus." He stood up and turned back to the board as if nothing had happened, "You may return to your seat."

Trying not to meet anyone's eyes, Alfred trudged to his seat at the back of the classroom. He'd known it; Arthur had been nicking lines from porn films! Wait… his eyes opened wide. How did Mr. Edelstein know?

_Were all of his teachers perverts?!_

* * *

The lesson over, the students filed out of the classroom, all fully ready to impart the events of Alfred's humiliation to their peers. A few minutes later, the music teacher also left, leaving the two boys alone. Arthur began to pack up rather more quickly, as Alfred advanced on him. He laughed nervously.

"Why, hello love," he said, hastily shoving his pencil case into his bag and backing towards the wall, "Nice lesson?" Alfred slammed his hands either side of his boyfriend's shoulders, stopping him from moving.

"And just what…" he said dangerously, "Was that…?" Arthur avoided Alfred's icy stare guiltily.

"I didn't _mean_ to miss…"

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT!" Alfred yelled, "Now the whole school will think I'm some sort of pervert-"

"They already suspected it…" said Arthur. Alfred raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, and that's your fault as well." Arthur couldn't argue with the truth.

"How about I make it up to you?" asked Arthur, wrapping his arms around the taller boy's waist and pressing their lips together. He pulled Alfred's chest to his own as he kissed him, sighing happily when he felt Alfred's hands stroke through his hair. Several minutes later, they broke apart.

"Are you still mad?" he asked softly, looking up at his boyfriend through his eyelashes.

"Yes."

"…"

"And now we'll have to rewrite the whole letter!" Alfred snapped, the romantic moment lost.

"Why?" asked Arthur, "What's wrong with this one?"

"Oh I don't know…" said Alfred sarcastically, "The fact that our whole class knows exactly what it says?"

"Good point," said Arthur, sighing, "Come on then." He dumped his bag on the nearest desk and sat down, pulling out some more paper and a pen. Alfred sat down and pulled up another chair for the shorter boy.

"Let's just get this done quickly," he said.

* * *

Unknown to the pair, three pairs of eyes were watching them. Francis, Gilbert and Antonio peered around the door. Francis, who had eagerly rushed to the door to get the best look, was now half-shoved to the floor, as the other two leaned over him – creating a highly unstable pile that could collapse at any moment. Francis glared up at his friends.

"Look, you missed it, alright, so let's go," he sighed, putting his phone back in his pocket. On it, were several, let's just say incriminating photographs, of everyone from Ivan Braginsky to Matthew Williams, and even a good number of the teachers. Useful bargaining material for when one didn't want a detention, as the Frenchman had discovered over the years.

"I don't see why we needed to come and see this anyway," grumbled Antonio, "I mean, everyone makes out in classrooms…" Francis sighed and shook his head.

"It's not that I'm looking for," he insisted, "That note Alfred had to read out, that note wasn't for Arthur." Two pairs of eyes turned to him.

"How do you know?" Gilbert asked.

"It wasn't about Arthur," said Francis thoughtfully, "At what point did he ever have brown hair? Or statuesque muscles? Or a _toga_? It all seems very suspicious…" he trailed off.

"How is it suspicious?"

"Well it wasn't for Arthur, as I've just said…" pondered Francis, "But Arthur seemed to know an awful lot about it, and didn't look the slightest bit bothered when he was reading it out."

"Duh," said Gilbert, rolling his eyes, "Because he helped write it."

"How do _you_ know?" interjected Francis. Gilbert grinned.

"I had to check his internet history in detention yesterday. I checked out some of the videos that were there and the dialogue matches parts of that letter exactly." Francis' eyes narrowed.

"Oh? What videos were they?" he had already grabbed his phone and opened a new note. Gilbert waved his hand dismissively.

"That's not the point," he leaned in conspiratorially, "The point is, they're both in on writing a love letter to someone else. And we need to find out who."

"Why?" Antonio asked, "And will it take long? I have a date with Lovino tonight…" Francis laughed.

"Just think," he said, smirking and leaning in, "Of all the stuff we could do if we found out. Blackmail, substituting the note, accidently telling the students, accidently telling the _teachers_…" he grinned, "The possibilities are endless. I have a feeling this one's going to be good."

* * *

A/N Thanks for reading! I'm going to let you work out which one of them wrote which part of that note… Please do leave a review! ^_^


	7. Period 7: Lunch (Part 1)

A/N Hello again! This is a really long chapter (well, by my standards), so I've split it into 2 parts. Thankyou to Sho-chan669 for reviewing, and everyone who followed/favourited ^_^

Polarbear1805 – I couldn't decide which of your ideas to use… So I settled on both.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

* * *

Alfred was in a bad mood the next morning. Not only had he had to miss his pure-and-innocent-cuddling-special-time with Arthur, he'd also had to write that stupid letter, _again_, all on his own (he'd politely refused Arthur's offer), and on top of that, apparently he hadn't been polite enough in said offer, because now the shorter blonde wasn't even talking to him.

Why yes, his day was going _wonderfully._

The American stomped down the hallway, alone, towards science class, his blood boiling and with an overwhelming urge to punch something.

* * *

Alfred glared at the back of his boyfriends head, completely ignoring whatever Mrs. Karpusi was trying to teach them about, um, sunflower seeds? He rested his head on the desk, oblivious to the ominous sounding chatter from his adjacent desks. He just wanted to sleep…

Suddenly, a loud ringtone sounded from Alfred's pocket. The entire class turned around to look at him, causing him to swear loudly and reach into his pocket. Mrs. Karpusi narrowed her gaze, as he pulled out the phone.

_1 new text from: Heartless Bastard_

Alfred, having taken the liberty to change his boyfriend's contact name, knew exactly who it was from.

_When are we planting the note?_

Alfred glowered at the seat in front of him, as he punched in a reply.

**Did you have to ask me now? Thanks for making even more embarrassing moments for me.**

_*sigh* Get over it. And we need to do it soon._

**I will not get over it! And I know! Sheesh.**

_So when?_

Alfred gave up. They could (would) always argue later, and after going through all this shit, they could at least finish what they'd set out to do.

**Lunch. We can just pretend we're going to go and grope each other in a cupboard or something.**

_It's quite sad that people accept that as a plausible explanation._

To be honest… Alfred had to agree. After that one (or two, three, four, ten…) times they were caught in compromising situations, people tended to jump to conclusions.

However true they may be. But that's another story.

* * *

Boring lessons came and went, and eventually it was lunchtime. By this point, Alfred had long since completely forgotten about their plan, and was taken completely off guard when he was dragged out of the queue by a very angry Brit.

"What the hell took you so long?" Arthur demanded, scowling at Alfred.

"Well I'm _terribly sorry_ that I need to eat," replied Alfred dryly, "And I was at the front! Couldn't you have brought yourself to wait for the, oh, 60 seconds it would have taken me to get a burger?!"

"No I couldn't," Arthur scowled, "That 60 seconds could be all the difference!"

"Ugh, what's gotten into you today?" asked Alfred sourly, "You're being even more of a bitch than usual…"

"And just what is that supposed to mean?!" Arthur retorted.

"Trouble in paradise, is it?" came a crooning voice from behind the quarrelling pair. Francis swooped in the second they turned around, forcing himself between them and draping an arm around each of them. Arthur scrunched up his nose as if recoiling from a bad smell as the blonde leaned closer to him, and pushed the Frenchman away.

"Go away," he snapped, "Don't you have a girlfriend to snog or something?"

"Non, they're all away today…"

"They?" Francis waved a hand dismissively.

"Why of course! I must spread l'amour to- WHERE ARE YOU TWO GOING?!" he whipped around, to see Arthur pull Alfred into a side corridor.

* * *

Eventually, the pair slowed to a halt, both of them out of breath and panting slightly. From the uncertain look on Arthur's face, the American figured that they were both equally lost. Alfred leaned against the wall, and tried to figure out their location. They'd taken a right after running away, then a left, and another left, then an, um…

"You know," said Alfred, "It's all well and good escaping from Francis…" he looked around the hall, "Except now I have _no idea where we are_."Arthur looked around, his face blank.

"I didn't even know this bit of the school existed…" Deciding to put their argument to the side for a moment, Alfred walked over to one of the rooms leading off the corridor, and gingerly opened it.

"…"

"What is it?" Arthur asked. Worried, he went over to Alfred.

"Now I know why this place looks unfamiliar."

The classroom looked like a bus had crashed through it. A black, tar-like substance covered all the surfaces, and an odd, red liquid was splashed across the floor. Smog hung in the air, obscuring the back of the room from view, but Alfred could just make out the jagged remains of what used to be a desk, twisted oddly against the wall as if thrown there by some sort of explosion. Pieces of jagged glass littered the floor from the broken windows, and what almost looked like a skull was resting underneath them.

"The old cooking classroom…" said Arthur quietly.

"That explosion was so bad that it actually posed a chemical biohazard…" Alfred continued, "They had to get a hazardous waste disposal team in…"

"Yeah…" said Arthur, still staring around at the destroyed classroom.

"You know," Alfred replied, "It's probably not the best idea for us to be down here."

"They said it would be safe in about 10 years," Arthur remembered, "So it's been about-"

"Three and a half!" yelled Alfred, "Quick Artie, we need to get out of here!" He grabbed his boyfriend's hand and pulled them both away from the smoking remains.

* * *

"Are you sure this is the right office?" Arthur asked, pausing. Alfred pointed to the placard.

_Mr. Vargas_

"Yeah, about 50% positive," he said, rolling his eyes. Arthur shot a glare in his direction, but said nothing. Alfred peered through the glass panel on the door to check that no one was inside, before turning and nodding to the shorter boy. He slowly pushed open the door and slipped inside.

"Dun, dun dun dun, dun, dun dun dun, dun, dun dun dun, dun, dun dun…" he hummed, "dun dun duuun, dun dun duuuuun, dun dun dun, dun! Dun du-"

"Alfred!" hissed Arthur, "Be quiet and take this seriously!"

"Every hero needs cool backing music," snapped Alfred.

As they argued, a tall, Spanish boy poked his head around the corner of the hallway and smirked.

"You guys," he whispered to his companions, "I've found them…" There was a rush of feet, as Francis and Gilbert caught up with him.

"Professor Vargas?" asked Francis, scratching his head, "That seems like quite an odd target."

"Who cares, kesese?" asked Gilbert, "That's going to make it twice as funny when he sees _our _version of a love confession." He laughed loudly, almost giving them away before Antonio elbowed him in the ribs to shut him up.

"Hurry up, amigos! Now we've found out the target, we can proceed to Step Two." All three boys shared a wicked grin, before slipping away.

* * *

"Did you hear something?" asked Arthur, hearing what sounded like a choking noise from the hallway. Alfred shook his head.

"Nope." He looked around, before spotting the desk in the corner of the room, "Come on and pass me the note." Arthur reached into his pocket and drew out the piece of paper. Well, to be correct, several pieces of paper. He handed them all to Alfred.

"There, it's one of them." Alfred looked down in disbelief at the pile of notes that seemed far too large to fit into one boy's blazer pocket.

"What are these?" he asked. Arthur scratched his head.

"I think some are caricatures of Mr. Beilschmidt," he replied thoughtfully, "A few are lists of ways to kill Francis. Okay, maybe more than a few…" he drifted off into thought for a moment, gave a terrifying grin, then shook his head and continued; "about half are lists of videos-"

"What videos?"

"You don't need to know that," said Arthur quickly, "There's a few old letters about not copulating behind the bike sheds…"

"I remember those days," said Alfred fondly, remembering, "That assembly was brilliant." He adopted an Italian accent and stood up very tall. "_Students, it is very important that romancing behind the bike sheds is kept to a minimum! Please find a more sensible place! If you're mature enough to do that, and I've seen it all, thanks to the positioning of my office window, you're mature enough to find somewhere less obvious to do it! Like the caretaker's cupboard… I heard it was empty on Wednesday afternoons when it's his day off…"_ Alfred turned around and began to imitate another teacher. "_Um, Professor, I don't think that was the point…_"

Both boys paused to laugh, until Arthur remembered that he was supposed to be angry with his boyfriend and stopped, glared and looked away. Alfred turned and looked out of the window – the Professor had been right, there _was_ a good view of behind the bike sheds from here… And of course, the couple passionately making out behind it.

"Oh come on, were you expecting that assembly to have worked?" asked Arthur sarcastically, joining him. Unable to resist, he squinted to try to get a closer look at who it was. Gossip was power, after all.

"Who is it?" Alfred asked, also trying to see who it was. Arthur made a noise of quiet surprise.

"Well, it isn't one of the Bad Touch Trio for once," he said. Alfred finally recognised the kissing pair, and reacted in a different way.

"Whoah, I never knew Ivan swung that way!" he exclaimed, pulling out his phone to take a picture, "Just wait until I tell everyone! His reputation is going to be totally ruined… And that guy who's with him too…" he squinted, "I can't quite see him from here..." The American was on the verge of manic laughter, when Arthur interrupted him.

"You do know the homosexuality rate amongst guys in our school is almost 100% right?" he said, "It shouldn't come as that much of a surprise."

"Makes you wonder what makes it so high…" pondered Alfred, "Maybe it's something in the water."

_Le Flashback~_

_Elizaveta was on a mission. Wearing the ninja outfit that Kiku had leant her (such a nice young man!), she crept towards the school's bottom floor storeroom, where the water filter was kept. Unable to resist an evil laugh, she opened her bag and pulled out the result of all her laborious years of research. Lightning dramatically flashed across the sky outside, as she quickly opened the filter and set to work installing the device._

"_Hehe~" she cackled, a dark grin spreading across her face, "That's the last time pesky real life tries to interfere with my yaoi…" She made to leave, making sure to leave no hint that she was ever there._

"_And remember…" she said to the empty room, "They're all gay… They just don't know it yet." Another dramatic flash of lightning, and the history teacher was gone._

_End Flashback~_

"Don't be ridiculous," said Arthur, rolling his eyes again, "That's just stupid. And we're running out of time," he added, looking at his watch.

"Okay, we need to find the note," said Alfred, putting the pile down on the table and beginning to root through it."

"And I think some of those notes are recipes…" said Arthur thoughtfully. Alfred's face paled, and he discreetly slid the offending pieces of paper into his own pocket, for disposal (incineration) later. Finally, he found what looked like the real thing, and held it up triumphantly.

"Great!" he cheered, "Now we can get this over with and get the hell out of here!"

Almost as if he had jinxed it, distant voices suddenly entered hearing range.

"Well it was nice talking to you, Wilhelm," came a happy voice from outside the doorway, "But I have to sign some boring papers now!" Footsteps sounded from the hallway outside, and they were only getting closer. Arthur and Alfred froze.

"Alright then," came another voice, "I'll talk to you later…" The voice sounded quieter than usual, with a hint of what almost seemed like sadness.

"Wilhelm, are you okay?" The first voice now sounded concerned. A heavy sigh came from his companion.

"I'm fine. Well, I will see you in the meeting this afternoon." The second man's footsteps faded, and before the two boys had registered it the doorknob began to turn. Panicking, the only thing Arthur could think of was rugby-tackling Alfred into a conveniently placed large cupboard.

Slamming the door behind them, it quickly occurred to him that this approach had made rather a lot of noise. Alfred, who had had his head smacked against the solid wood of the furniture, tried to cry out in pain, but Arthur pressed a hand over his mouth. They waited with baited breath.

"That's strange, I'm sure I heard something…" the head teacher's voice said from outside the cupboard. Both boys backed further into the cupboard, even more so when they heard the metallic ting of a weapon being drawn.

"If you're a burglar," Professor Vargas said powerfully, "You should know that my gladiator training was second to none. I always did find it quite fun… The emperors were less than appreciative, but it was a great hobby for me. My favourite time was…" The intimidating tone lost, the Professor continues to babble about 'the good old days', seemingly lost in reminiscence.

Arthur felt around inside the surprisingly spacious cupboard, and to his surprise, found a long robe and several togas, rather than the books and stationary supplies he had been expecting.

"Huh?" he exclaimed quietly.

"You know what this means Artie?" asked Alfred, a small grin appearing on his face. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"If you're going in make an in the closet joke about this…" he said warningly.

"… Damn you."

* * *

A little longer than a few minutes later (an amount of time making Arthur almost certain he was missing his geography class – dammit, he would fail again!), the talking stopped, and a dull scratching of pen on paper could be heard, coupled with a few final remarks about 'Good ol' Julie… That Brutus was a swine though…' Having never heard the Professor grumble before, Alfred had to suppress a laugh at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

However, after what seemed like five hours (but was really only about ten minutes), both Arthur and Alfred were thinking the same thing; When will this end?! It was stifling in the closet – just warm enough to make you drowsy, but not hot enough so you needed to take your blazer off. Arthur rested his head on his boyfriend's shoulder, fanning himself with his free hand and on the verge of falling asleep. Alfred snaked an arm around Arthur's waist and pulled him closer, a small sigh coming from both of them as they cuddled. He pressed his face into the shorter boy's hair, and stroked his back softly. Arthur nestled under the crook of his boyfriend's arm, wrapping his own arms around Alfred's chest.

It occurred to them then that they were in fact, very, very bad at falling out.

"Hm, I'm sorry babe," slipped out of Alfred's mouth before he could stop himself. Arthur squeezed him softly.

"Me too," he said, before insecurity flitted across his face, "But you don't actually think I'm a bitch, do you?"

"Sometim-" was almost out of Alfred's mouth, before he was saved by a cheer from the Professor's desk.

"Aaand that's all done!" came the chirpy voice from outside the door, "Now I can go take my siesta~" The telltale sounds of a heavy chair scraping along the floor and papers being filed away, followed by footsteps, and, after what seemed like an eternity, the closing of the door. After a long minute, Arthur carefully untangled himself from his boyfriend and nudged the door open. Relieved that the room was empty, he crept out, quickly followed by Alfred.

Not hanging around this time, he slammed the slightly (only slightly…) crumpled piece of paper down on the desk, grabbed the door, pulled it open and started to run. The American closed the door quietly, before sprinting to catch up.

"I can't believe we pulled it off, Artie!" he said loudly, once they were out of the administration building, "This is way too good to be true!"

"Yeah…" Arthur replied, "It is…" An ominous feeling of doom began to settle over him.

* * *

**Meanwhile, in the school office…**

"Dammit!" cursed Gilbert, "Where is the fucking button?"

"This technological _merde _is harder than it looks," Francis whined in agreement.

"Maybe we should ask one of those guys for help," said Antonio, gesturing to the two men tied up in the corner of the room. Gilbert shook his head frantically.

"Nein, it took long enough to get those guys out of the way! We are not letting them ruin our awesome prank." With that, he kept sifting through the untidy desk. "How many control panels do you need for one tiny school anyway- Ooh, this looks interesting…" He stopped. The other two turned to look at what he had found. Underneath a mound of paperwork, hidden by a blacked-out sheet of plastic, was a big, red button.

_Do not press, _the text underneath it read.

"Mmmmmfh!" one of the men in the corner tried to shout, his brown hair falling across his face as he struggled. The other simply shook his head frantically and widened his blue eyes, a look of panic flitting across his features. Ignoring them, the trio leaned in curiously.

"Oh come on," said Gilbert eventually, "Were they really expecting us not to?" He slammed his hand down on the button.

'_Attention, attention," _came a booming voice over the intercom, _"Attention please. The following is an important announcement. Please listen carefully and follow any instructions."_

'Jackpot!' Antonio mounted to the other two. Gilbert pulled out his 'script' and began to fulfil what the infamous Bad Touch Trio had so cleverly named… _Step Two_. Francis hummed a few dramatic chords for effect, as Gilbert prepared to speak.

"Mein friends," said Gilbert, trying to sound official, "We are gathered here today for the most important of reasons." Francis gave the German a thumbs up, and he continued, "Today, we celebrate the coming together of two people, in more ways than one if everything turns out well kesesese…" Antonio gave a short laugh. "Today…"

Gilbert had reached the blank gap on his paper. Francis grabbed some paper ('_Final Grade Records'_ weren't that important, right?) and quickly scribbled 'PROFESSOR VARGAS!' Gilbert nodded, mouthing 'I knew that...' Francis smirked sarcastically.

"Our beloved Professor Vargas will finally learn about the one person who will put up with him. The one and only-" he looked towards Francis, but the Frenchman only shrugged. Unfortunately, (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it), the name of the head teacher's suitor was the only detail that had alluded the trio. Cursing under his breath, Gilbert regained his composure.

"Well, he'll just have to find out." He managed to crack one of his usual mischievous grins, "I hear that there's a hint waiting in your-"

"OVER THERE!" came a bellowing voice, "THERE'S SOMEONE IN THE OFFICE!" Francis took a look out of the open-fronted door and gave a small shriek.

"Your grandfather," he shouted to Gilbert, "Let's get out of here!" The trio threw open the door and ran, sincerely hoping that the PE teacher didn't recognise their rapidly retreating backs.

* * *

Alfred and Arthur turned to look at each other.

"What…" Alfred began slowly.

"The hell…" Arthur continued

"Was THAT?!" Alfred demanded, turning as if trying to spot the perpetrator, "Fuck, now everyone knows!" Arthur sighed.

"Yeah, so much for us being subtle…"

"At least they didn't completely blow Mr. Beilschmidt's cover…" said Alfred. Arthur nodded and walked a few more steps, before suddenly stopping dead in his tracks.

"Wait, since when did _we_ care?"

"Heroes care about everyone," said Alfred adamantly.

"… But you hated that guys guts a few days ago." The taller boy waved a hand dismissively.

"Details, details…" he pushed open the door to their geography classroom, "But I think we have more pressing things to worry ab-"

"JONES, KIRKLAND, WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU TWO BEEN?!" came the angry screech of the teacher. Everything suddenly became normal again, as the pair stepped inside and prepared to face the music.

"Will the we-were-too-caught-up-in-throes-of-passion excuse work, Miss?" Alfred offered tentatively. The teacher walked over to the desk and drew out a small, black book that read 'Rules' on the cover. Checking it, she gave a small sigh.

"No," she said, "That reason is only valid on February 14th and other romance-associated occasions and holidays."

Alfred didn't even care that they had to write lines for the rest of the lesson. He had just discovered the best school rule ever.

* * *

"And your homework today is…"

Arthur reached into his blazer pocket for his pen, but was surprised when his hand instead met the telltale texture of paper. Not any paper, the special, smooth silky feel of expensive paper, like they type they used to wri-

Oh shit, no… This was not what he thought it was… Arthur pulled the paper out of his pocket and read it to himself.

_Dear Julius, my most valued friend,_

Arthur's face paled, and his hand shook as he slowly replaced the paper in his pocket. If he had the real note…

_What the hell was on Mr. Vargas' desk?_

* * *

A/N Thanks for reading, and please do leave a review~ ^_^

And no prizes for guessing who caused that explosion ;)


	8. Period 7: Lunch (Part 2)

A/N Part two! I may come back to this and improve it later, but I really can't think of anything to add to it now. I am so tired but I was determined to get this chapter up today! Thank you to Sho-chan669 for reviewing and everyone who followed/favourited.

Disclaimer: I disclaim.

* * *

"Shit, piss, fuck, cunt…" Arthur mumbled angrily under his breath, holding his head in his hands and looking down at the note. The note that should be on Mr. Vargas' desk. Did fate have it in for him, or was this punishment for picking all the four leaved clovers in the field to make Viagra to put in the school drinking fountain? Probably the latter… But he'd only wanted revenge! That Frog had replaced all his uniform with Playboy bunny girl outfits the day of his media exam. His media exam that was filmed.

So his revenge was totally justifiable. The thing was, Francis only drank wine… But such irrelevant details hadn't undermined his plan at all, and it had all worked beautifully! Until the point when he himself forgot about the Viagra and… BUT ANYWAY.

"Cocksucker, motherfucker, t-" he continued, trying to clear his head of all the obscenities he really, really wanted to direct at something other than his desk, pencil case and half full, G-grade(at best) geography book.

"KIRKLAND!" yelled the teacher, rolling her eyes, "If you have something to say, why don't you tell the class?"

"But you don't understand!" the blonde half yelled, "You don't, none of you do!" his eyes darted over to where his boyfriend was watching him; "Even Alfie doesn't know" I'm… We're…" Unable to finish, he ran out of the classroom, to the bemusement of his peers. The teacher only rolled her eyes and turned back to the board.

"Jones, go after him," she said, not turning around, "And then take him to the nurses, she'll be able to take you through the options." Confused, yet glad he didn't have to go through the final half hour of geography, Alfred grabbed his bag and walked towards the door. The teacher sighed, "And make sure to use protection next time." Alfred stopped dead.

"Um… What?" he asked slowly. The teacher turned and put on a voice akin to one a person would use to a five year old.

"Well whatever you decide to do, I hope it's the right decision," she said condescendingly, "I always knew this would happen at one point, but why did it have to happen in _my_ lesson?" Clueless, Alfred stared at his teacher.

"Um, what would happen, Miss?"

"… I really pity that kid, growing up with fathers like you two…" she sighed, shaking her head in sympathy.

"Kid?" Alfred frowned, "Miss, we don't have a kid…"

"You don't yet, Jones, you don't yet," the teacher said, looking as if she wanted to smack her head against the whiteboard.

"Wha-" he struggled to say, "How is that even possible?" The teacher only shrugged.

"I'm in geography, hun. Biology is downstairs."

* * *

Wow, thought Alfred, as he walked along the corridor, looking around for any sign of the other boy. That teacher was weird… But, his mind immediately began to overflow. What if he was? Oh shit… Oh shit shit shit shit… What would happen to them? What would everyone say? Would they even be allowed to stay at the Academy?

"Don't worry Artie!" he blurted out, "I'm going to support you and we can keep it and we'll raise it really well and we don't have to drop out and I'll be a great father and it won't hurt when you have it I promise I'll be there with you and it'll all be fine and I can drive you to the hospital and-"

"I didn't hear a word of that," Arthur interrupted, raising an eyebrow, "But it's good you're here, we have a problem…" he lowered his voice.

"What?!" Alfred demanded, "How could that be more important than our baby?!"

"… Baby?"

"Yes!" said Alfred, grabbing Arthur around the waist and stroking his stomach. Arthur turned to glare at his boyfriend.

"Are you calling me fat?"

"Huh, no!" the taller boy said, "Unless you're that far along…" he pouted, "You could have told me sooner, you know…" Arthur's face had turned from anger to confusion.

"Told you what?" he asked.

"That you're pregnant!" The sound of that statement echoed rather loudly off the cavernous ceiling of the hallway, probably carrying all the way back to the room where their entire class was waiting to get a hint of the new gossip.

"…"

"…" They both stood in silence for at least a minute.

"Alfred…" said Arthur slowly, "Why would I be pregnant?"

"Because we didn't use protection!" Alfred said, despairingly, "I knew I should have listened! Now our kid will grow up knowing that he or she was an accident!"

"Alfred, I'm male."

"So?"

"It's the only possible explanation," said Alfred huffily, "Don't worry, _I_ didn't realise it until Miss told me…"

"That's not even biologically possible! Why the hell would you think that?! Why the hell would _she_ think that?!" demanded Arthur, "Something else in the water?"

"_Nah," came a disembodied, eastern European voice, "The doctors told me if any pregnant teenage boys showed up at their surgery, they were going to tell the police I nicked their PET scanner and used it to create a Yaoi machine…"_

"… Did you hear that?" Alfred asked. Arthur just curled his hand around his boyfriend's, and slowly pulled him away from the small, black camera embedded into the wall.

"Let's just go…" he said. Alfred only nodded, staring at the camera. Their argument over, he tugged the other boy down the hallway.

* * *

"So it was just that note thing then?" said Alfred, trying to keep his face neutral. However, inside he was far more relieved than he was prepared to admit.

"What's that look for?" Arthur asked aggressively, "How is that good? Mr. Vargas is going to see it and we'll have fucked everything up and UGH!" he tried to throw a punch at the wall, but Alfred caught his fist.

"Um, babe…" he said, stroking the Brit's hair to try to calm the boy down, "Heh, it's not that much of a big deal… We can just put the right one on some other time…"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" snapped Arthur, "I'll go on my own then!" He began to march down the corridor, before turning, a sheepish grin on his face. "Err… You don't know where the Prof's office is, do you?"

"You're hopeless," Alfred sighed, "I think it was, um, this way…?" He peered cautiously down a hallway that looked akin to a dark, creepy side alley, pimp, prostitute, and drug dealer included. Oh wait… Deciding it would be better not to ask, the American only raised an eyebrow at the Bad Touch Trio and backed away.

Several more wrong turns later, they finally found the right room. Sighing in relief, Arthur had almost rested his hand on the door when a loud voice cracked over the loudspeakers;

"_Attention, Attention. All students please report to the assembly hall immediately. I repeat, immediately. Failure to do so will result in your decapitation-" The_ voice was momentarily cut off, before starting up again, _"What do you mean I can't say that?! Stupid regulations… Alright then, your constant and varied progressive torture into the fiery depths of hell on Ear- WHAT'S WRONG WITH THAT?!"_ The sound of breaking glass, and then a different voice took over;

"_What my colleague means to say," _it said, with a touch of exasperation, laced with menace, _"Is that you will have to dress as the stripper at our end of year parade. However, since many of you would probably like that, there are the alternate, worse options of ninja crocodile woman, giant potato and guy covered in shit. It can be arranged for fitting to begin on the 8th of-"_

"WHY THE HELL DID I LET JULIUS HIRE YOU TWO AS RECEPTIONISTS?" came a bellowing German voice, followed by the sound of something else smashing. A dull buzzing followed, before fading away to nothing. The two boys looked at each other.

"Personally, I'd go for giant potato," Alfred said, "You can be obese crocodile woman."

"Hell no," said Arthur, "I'm going as a stripper." An eerie glint appeared in his eyes. "I still have a few risqué outfits left from my pirate days… Maybe I could wear one of them." The speakers cracked to life.

"AMPHITHEATRE. NOW. OR YOU'LL BE LICKING THE BLOOD AND GUTS OF THESE DAMN RECEPTIONISTS OFF MY SHOES." Alfred paled slightly.

"Babe, maybe we should go…" he said, tugging on Arthur's arm.

"The note-" the shorter blonde began to say, but Alfred grabbed hold of his arm.

"I don't care. I'm not in the mood for cannibalism."

"I'm sure we could persuade them to revert to the stripper thing…"

"No," Alfred said firmly, "Firstly, they already hate us so the chances are at least minus 6000%," he leaned in closer, "Secondly, no one except me is seeing you in a stripper outfit." He brushed his lips against Arthur's cheek, straightened up and grinned. The shorter boy sighed.

"… To the assembly."

* * *

Mr. Beilschmidt stood at the front of the amphitheatre, with a face like thunder. The sort of face that said; 'yes-I-know-this-is-only-a-mock-amphitheatre-but-someone-is-going-to-die-here-today'. The sort of face that looked more fitting for the final battle of a bad war film. The sort of face that was glaring directly at Arthur and Alfred.

"Y… You don't think this has anything to do with us, do you?" Alfred asked nervously.

"Hehe, no…" said Arthur, equally nervous, "Why… Why would we have done anything…? … Shiiiiit…" he buried his face in Alfred's jacket, "Just tell me when it's over."

"Thankyou for that," replied Alfred dryly, "I feel _so _much better." The PE teacher cleared his throat, and the whole room fell into fearful silence (except Feliks, who babbled on without a care until Mr. Edelstein leaned over and whispered something along the lines of '… Beethoven… piano… listen… me… 4 hours', after which he ran from the amphitheatre in fear).

"Hey, Wilhelm," Mr. Vargas said hesitantly, even he himself a little afraid, "Don't you think this is a little bit of an overreaction? It's just kids messing around, as usual…" Arthur noticed, a little guiltily, the look of sadness that flitted across the other teacher's face.

"It has come to our attention, as leading members of staff," the German began, "That certain pupils have carried out what can only be assumed to be a distasteful joke on ourselves." The assembled students, previously in varying stages of extreme boredom, were suddenly all ears. Sadly for them, Mr. Beilschmidt was most certainly not in the mood to impart all the 'juicy details', as a smirking Yong Soo had yelled from the back of the room.

"So we've given you a chance to own up to what you've done," said Mr. Vargas, "Our delightful receptionists had come up with some rather interesting suggestions that I am inclined to try should you do so." A wave of badly-disguised laughs fell across the room. "However, should you not, and we 'discover'…" For some reason, Arthur disliked the sound of that. "… That you were responsible, we shall place you in the arena at the bottom of this hall and you will FIGHT TO THE-"

"You will have to clean the school closet with nothing but your bed sheets, pillow and some bleach," said Mr. Beilschmidt, sounding oddly (or not) satisfied, "While wearing nothing but the schoolgirl outfits which I confiscated from Mr. Honda this morning…" Kiku sank a little lower in his seat. "During this, our photography students will have the opportunity to practise their 'blackmail shots', as I am aware they have been learning. However, to prevent any actual threats being made, an extensive album of the photographs will be available from the school shop for the bargain price of minus £0.01." He smiled and stepped backwards. Arthur and Alfred immediately paled.

The janitor's closet, or simply 'the closet', was the school's second most notorious make-out spot (after the 'classic' bike sheds), and the first most notorious cutting-class-to-have-sex spot. And everyone knew it. Who knows what might be splattered across the walls… Usually the lights were out, so Alfred had never cared to look (besides, he had more important things to be doing…)

"Well," said Mr. Beilschmidt, leaning back against the wall, "I'm waiting…" Neither boy moved. Whether paralysed by fear, or just hoping that somehow, somehow the teacher wasn't going to pick on them for once, they stayed firmly where they were. But, it was obviously them, wasn't it? They'd been there in that detention, they'd been the last ones in the room, they had the motivation, the ability, the opportunity and the poor alibi afterwards.

Fuck.

The PE teacher sighed. "Fine, whatever you want." He straightened up and walked to the centre of the hall. "Carriedo, Beilschmidt- You know very well I mean you Gilbert, stop looking at your brother, and Bonnefoy, get down here." Arthur and Alfred sat bolt upright, startled. Evidently, the confused yells from behind them showed that the trio were thinking the same thing. Slowly, slowly, Gilbert and Antonio stood up from the front row. There was silence in the hall as Francis made the long walk from the top of the steps, where he had snuck in late. Mr. Beilschmidt cracked an almost sadistic smile.

"You all know what will be happening to these three tomorrow," he said, "And I'm sure our photography class will enjoy the experience. Now, take these…" he handed a blue and white, frilly monstrosity to each of the boys, and then ushered them out of the stage door. "For the rest of you," he said, addressing the rest of the pupils, "You may leave. Return to your lessons." He waved a hand with unusual dismissiveness, before following the doomed three through the stage door. Distant, angry yelling could be heard within seconds – whether from the teacher or from the pupils, it wasn't clear.

* * *

Alfred and Arthur stood up to leave with their peers, still slightly shell shocked that it wasn't they who were now facing public humiliation. However, as soon as they reached the top of the steps, Arthur grabbed his boyfriends hand and dragged him towards the offices. For the third time today. Fortunately, this meant that they had some idea where they were going, which allowed Alfred to use some of his concentration to hum the tune of the Pink Panther. Which wasn't really applicable seeing as they were sprinting haphazardly down the corridor in plain view, but they had more important things to focus on.

Third time lucky, after all. Or, 'it'd-damn-well-be-or-someone-is-going-to-get-it' time lucky, as Arthur was currently thinking, as he threw open the office door. Pulling the note out of his pocket (and checking it was the right one this time), he threw it down on the desk. He reached over and quickly scribbled another sentence on the end.

_P.S. Sorry about those three jerks. They were trying to corrupt our pure, innocent love and tear our heated, sweaty bodies away from their moments of moments of unbridled passion and sweet lovemaking. My heart aches at the rift those twats drove between us and-_

Alfred pulled the pen out of his boyfriends hand and scribbled out the last two sentences. The Brit opened his mouth to protest, but Alfred pulled him away before he could start _that_ argument again. As they ran down the hallway for the last time, Arthur could almost taste the freedom on the tip of his tongue… Until he tripped over a wet floor sign and face-planted Francis' high-heeled shoes. Although, with all the bows, frills, too-short blue skirt and even a bow in his hair, it took him a minute to even notice.

"You deserved that." Was all the Frenchman said, before stalking away (the intended effect was ruined, however, by the fact that in that outfit it looked more like a flounce).

…

Alfred held the cloth to his boyfriend's cheek to ease the swelling on the large, shoe-shaped bruise that was forming there.

"Hm, we did it babe," he said sleepily, tired out from the day they'd had. He wrapped his arms around the other boy and pulled him in to his chest, resting his chin on top of his head and nuzzling his hair. Arthur leaned backwards and relaxed into the cuddle, enjoying the feeling of their limbs entwined together. Despite their best efforts to stay awake to celebrate their victory, they were both snoring within minutes, sprawled out across the sofa in an uncomfortable sleeping position that they were both going to regret in the morning – the cans of beer they had been planning to drink lying untouched in the corner.

The next day, Alfred couldn't help but keep a close eye on the two teachers in the following days. Although for the first day he saw nothing unusual to his dismay, by the second day he noticed the pair looking at each other far more than two friends should (believe me, he could recognise the signs from experience), and by the third day, Mr. Vargas was visibly limping and the German PE teacher was looking very satisfied. It didn't take a genius (which was fortunate because both Arthur and Alfred weren't exactly at that mark), to realise that for once, their plan had worked.

"You know, love," said Arthur, tracing his fingers down his boyfriend's arm lightly, "Since we've both done so well…" he pressed his body against Alfred's side and smirked, "I think we should reward ourselves~"

As the bedroom door slammed behind them, all that could be heard were Alfred's final words;

"So… Were you serious about that pirate stripper outfit?"

* * *

A/N Gah, I'm so tired… I'm not going to bore you with my complaining, so I'm just going to go pass out on the floor now.

Please review~!


	9. Period 8: Reflection

A/N Chapter 9! *honestly didn't think I'd get this far* Thanks to Sho-chan669 for reviewing and everyone who followed/favourited!

Idea for this chapter comes from Sho-chan669 ^_^

Disclaimer: Hetalia isn't mine *goes to sit in emo corner*

* * *

"Hmm…" sighed Alfred happily, laying down on their double bed and looking over at Arthur, "It's nice to play matchmaker, isn't it?"

"Hmph, I suppose so," Arthur huffed. Alfred grinned.

"Reminds me of when Francis helped us get together," he said, rolling over to face the shorter boy, "Do you remember?" Arthur smirked.

"How could I not?"

* * *

_Le flashback~_

_It was the first day of the school year, several years ago. Alfred, dropped off with his brother Matthew, had long since dragged them both over to the old treehouse, better known as that-falling-down-pile-of-sticks – well, it wasn't old or falling down then, but you get the point. The American had boxed off the top of the treehouse and was using it as a fort to do 'lots of cool hero stuff'. All the teachers thought it was really cute…_

_Well, until it went on for six hours and he missed all his lessons of the day. So when it came to day two, Alfred soon realised that he didn't know anyone. It was as if, in the first day, everyone had decided to group up into their cliques and never talk to anyone else. Ever. Except Matthew of course, but he'd vanished some time ago. Alfred had long since given up looking._

_After several break times of loneliness, he came across a short, scruffy haired boy in the corner of the library (still a safe haven, with no signs of what was to become of it years down the line). He sat alone at a desk, in what a sign informed Alfred was the 'Classical Literature' section, surrounded with piles of books that seemed far too large for him. Of course, when Alfred told him this, all he got was;_

"_Go away! You're disrupting my reading time!" the boy glared. Alfred looked down at what he was reading._

"_Why are you trying to read that? It's probably just stupid and boring anyway-"_

_*Slap*_

_All he got from that first meeting was a red mark on his cheek and a bruised ego, along with a very angry blonde who hated his guts. Which, of course, only made Alfred even more determined to try again._

* * *

"_Sooo, I was thinking…" Alfred leaned over the boy's shoulder the next day, as he struggled to class under a mountain of textbooks, "'Cos I'm the hero and all, I thought I should help you with those." All the boy did in return was raise an eyebrow and turn away with a small remark;_

"_Please leave." Alfred glared._

"_No! You don't just refuse help from the hero," he pouted, "That's not how it works." He tried to grab the heaviest of the books, but the other boy moved his arm at the last moment, causing Alfred to knock all of his books onto the floor._

"_Sir Winston!" the shorter boy yelled, diving to recover the heavy book. Deciding not to ask, Alfred bent down._

"_Sooo… Now can I help you carry those?" he asked, flashing his best smile. The boy finally gave a long suffering sigh and a glare that could fry bacon (in fact, this has been the only way to date Arthur has been able to make edible food)._

"_If you must." He dumped a pile of notes and textbooks into Alfred's arms and walked off. Alfred followed._

"_It's cute how you act like you're the one doing me a favour," he said brightly, "Where are we going?"_

"_Library," came the one word response. Alfred raised an eyebrow._

"_Not talkative today?"_

"_Am I_ever_?" Alfred thought on that for a few seconds._

"_Actually, yeah you are…" he said, "Like that time you were yelling at that kid about oil rigs or something and reduced him to tears. I heard he had to get therapy after that because you scared him so much because you're such a limey bastard and you don't know how to treat a little brother."_

"_Just… Shut up." They had reached the door to the library. The boy turned around to take his belongings from the American, "And you didn't happen to hear that story from my brother Peter, did you?"_

"_Eh, I think that was his name…" replied Alfred, struggling to remember, "Actually, what's yours?" The boy glared._

"_Fuck off."_

"_That's an unusual name," Alfred replied, raising an eyebrow, "Are you sur-" He turned to see the library door slam shut in his face and the boy gone. Narrowing his eyes, he yelled through the wood._

"_YEAH WELL I'M GOING TO FIND OUT ANYWAY!" he shouted, before realising how childish it sounded. Oh well. It _was _true, he grinned to himself._

"_SHUT THE FUCK UP THIS IS A LIBRARY!" came the furious reply._

* * *

"_Hey, Fuckoff! What's tonight's homework?"_

* * *

"_Fuckoff, I got this great new album! Want to listen to it?"_

* * *

"_Fuckoff~! Are you in my geography this year? I think we are… We should totally sit together."_

"_You most certainly are not. Go away."_

* * *

"_Hey Fuckoff, I got you a present!"_

"_Your leftover burger wrapper?"_

"_Yep!"_

"… _Do you want me to take out a restraining order?"_

* * *

"_Fuckoff, can I sit with you for lunch?"_

"_MY NAME IS ARTHUR OKAY, NOW LEAVE ME ALONE." Alfred grinned as he walked away._

_Mission accomplished._

* * *

"_Hey Artie-"_

"_Arthur," interjected the shorter boy._

"_Precious Artiekins Darling Sweetheart," continued Alfred, ignoring the interruption, "Would you like to come and see my hero base?"_

"_Your… hero base?" said Arthur, slightly disbelievingly, trying and failing to avoid bursting into laughter._

"_And just what is so funny?" Alfred demanded, "This is serious business!"_

"_Are you insane, or just delusional?" Arthur managed to force out through his laughs._

"_I know how to play a game," said Alfred, deadpanning, "Now stop being so serious and come and be my backup, the world is in danger!"_

"_Oh… I get it now," mused Arthur, "However… My previous question still applies."_

"… _Let's just go," sighed Alfred._

* * *

_Admittedly, the fort at this stage was in the finest state it had ever been, thanks to meticulous maintenance by one Alfred Jones. It was built in a tree near the edge of the school grounds, and only accessible via rope ladder or catlike-tree climbing skills (because who cares about getting down again?), with a small, thatched roof and one room underneath it. Up against one wall were lined all of Alfred's collectable action figures (for which he had raided the school's entire cereal supply), against the left wall was a collection of 'superhero capes' – again a product of the cereal (who knew boxes made such great armour?), an event that had came to be known as the Great Breakfast Heist. But that's another story._

_From the right wall, light poured in through a glassless window, and on either side of the 'door' (really just a flap made from an old coat of Mr. Beilschmidt's, which he believes to this day was eaten by badgers) were scrawled the words; 'Heroes only!'Alfred spread his arms triumphantly and looked proudly over at his 'friend'._

"_This is stupid," said Arthur grumpily, looking around the small room. Alfred scowled._

"_Hey!" he snapped, "I didn't call your reading stupid!"_

"_Yes you did."_

"…"

"_And why is this cape made of cardboard?" Arthur asked._

"_DO YOU NOT REMEMBER MY HEROIC DEED?!"_

"_You blew up a cookery classroom and destroyed my lovely batch of scones in the process," scowled Arthur._

"_It was in the way of my mission," said Alfred, without a trace of sarcasm, "And did you hear about the way I dived through that window to escape the teachers? It was so cool."_

"_Regardless," said Arthur coolly, "That cape is still made out of cardboard." Out of his bag, he pulled out a complete sewing kit, machine and bundle of suspiciously coloured fabric._

"_Um… What's that?" Alfred asked, already knowing the answer._

"_Well I'm going make you a proper one," Arthur said, already unfurling the felt-ish material, "But only if you promise to wear it… I don't want all my hard work to go to waste."_

"_Sure," said Alfred, without thinking. However, a strange feeling of dread began to build in his stomach. He was yet to find out why._

_Some time later…_

"_ARTHUR WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" Alfred yelled. Arthur looked up and blinked._

"_Sewing you a cape," he replied, "Why, is there a problem?"_

"_YES!" shouted the taller boy, "HEROES ARE MANY THINGS! HEROES FIGHT DEMONS! HEROES KICK THE BAD GUYS ASSES! HEROES ACCOMPLISH AMAZING FEATS OF STRENGTH AND DEXTERITY! HEROES DO NOT WEAR _FLOWER EMBROIDERED CAPES_!"_

"_I thought it was a nice touch…" said Arthur._

"_Why would you… What…?" asked Alfred, in a state of disbelief, "I mean, would _you _wear it?"_

"_Yes." As if to demonstrate his point, Arthur picked up the offending piece of material and draped it around his own shoulders, "See?" Alfred had to admit, Arthur did look kind of… cute. But more in the fluffy kitten type of way, than the badass hero type of way. Probably because it was pink, with delicate red roses embroidered up the side…_

"_Yes, but just because it suits you doesn't mean it suits me!" Alfred said, scowling and turning away. The shorter boy huffed, taking offense._

"_Why do you even keep going on about being a hero and all that?" he asked grumpily, gazing out of the window, the fabric of the cape touching just below his knees._

"_Because I want to be your hero," Alfred replied adamantly, before he realised what he has said and stopped dead. Both boys were silent for a minute, as the awkwardness built up around them like a mighty pit of adolescent angst. Finally, Arthur spoke;_

"_Are you trying to hit on me?" he deadpanned._

"_M-maybe," Alfred said quietly. Arthur turned around and looked at his self righteously._

"_Well I'm sorry, but you'll have to try harder than that." And with that, he had left the fort and disappeared._

_But hey, it wasn't total rejection._

* * *

_Like a shark hunting its prey, that lunchtime a certain Frenchman hunted down Alfred and dragged him to an empty table._

"_So you want to win him over, non?" Francis crooned, snaking an arm around the American's shoulder, which he quickly shoved off. Just how exactly did he know that? Alfred wondered, panicking slightly. How quickly did news travel in this place?!_

"_I don't know who you're talking about," he tried to say, but his eyes gave him away._

"_Oh really," asked Francis, tilting his head to the side, "Don't patronise me, mon ami… We all know you and Arthur hired escorts and had a club disco in that fort of yours."_

"_What?!" exclaimed Alfred, "No! Where the hell did you get that idea?"_

"_I'm thinking more along the lines of, 'what idea will the school get about you two unless you admit you like Arthur Kirkland.'" Alfred scowled._

"_Yeah, I do like him," he said sulkily, "So what? What are you going to do about it?" Francis smirked and sat down at a table, beckoning for Alfred to join him._

"_S'il vous plait, this amour thing is tr_è_s facile," he said, pulling out a piece of paper, "All you need is a plan…"_

"_You're going to help me?" Alfred asked excitedly, "Thanks, you're great!"_

"_It will cost you thirty Euros," Francis finished._

"… _I take it back."_

* * *

_Art class was everyone's favourite. This was due half to the exposure to beautiful paintings, murals and cultures… And half due to the fact the teacher tended to sleep through their lessons and let the class run riot (or 'expressing their creativeness through interpretive dance which will later be portrayed through the medium of urns', as had been explained to Professor Vargas)._

_Unfortunately, the class now had to follow up on that lie. Sat in front of every student was a large vase shaped piece of pottery, with ominous amounts of black paint and even more ominous amounts of cleaning fluid. Alfred glanced across the room and saw Arthur gazing at his with a facial expression similar to one a person would make when faced with a ravenous lion. Francis nudged the other boy's side._

"_Go and wait behind the paints. I'll handle the rest." With a smirk, he left, leaving Alfred just enough time to dart over to the large storage room and hide among the sets of 'baby blue' watercolours before he was spotted by their ever-nosy classmates._

_Meanwhile, Francis sidled nonchalantly up to Arthur, who turned his usual smile (read: glare) on him. The Frenchman pouted._

"_Mon cher, that is no way to greet your childhood friend…" he threw out an arm flamboyantly, accidently on purpose knocking over Arthur's can of paint, coating not only the urn, but the entire desk as well._

"_Bastard!" snapped Arthur, standing up immediately and starting to wipe up the spillage with a cloth. He saw Francis begin to walk away, and yelled, "Oi, come back over here and help me!"_

"_Paint is over there," was all he got in reply, with a gesture towards Alfred's hiding place._

_Arthur sure was taking his time cleaning up the paint. Francis began to wonder if he would actually get around to going to the cupboard. He hoped so. Francis Bonnefoy had a 100% track record of matchmaking and he wasn't keen to lose it any time soon._

_Fortunately, after ten minutes (seriously, who needs that long… Francis mumbled angrily to himself), Arthur finally made the walk over to retrieve a new can of 'ebony' paint. He waited until the other blonde was inside, before slamming the door behind him and throwing himself against it to prevent escape._

* * *

_Arthur heard the door slam, and turned around just in time to see Francis' grinning face. He hit the door several times and pulled at the handle, but to no avail. Alfred cautiously stood up from his hiding place._

"_Stupid wanker isn't going to let me out," he sighed finally to himself, before turning and seeing Alfred standing behind him. He clapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself yelling in shock and took a few steps backwards._

"_Alfred! What… What the bloody hell are you doing here?" Alfred froze, suddenly forgetting everything he wanted to say. He tried to open his mouth, but only a few unintelligible syllables came out. Arthur tilted his head to the side in confusion. "Um, sorry… I didn't hear that."_

"_Willyougooutwithmeplease?" Alfred asked in a rush. Arthur turned around, mildly surprised. Alfred's heart froze in his chest. Alfred felt like he was going to die. This was so embarrassing, how could he have thought he would say yes, he was so stupid! Now Arthur would think he was a total creep and he's never talk to him again and he'd never be able to be his hero and they'd never talk again because it would just be too awkward and –_

"_Sure," Arthur shrugged._

_Wait, what?_

"_I've been waiting for you to hurry up and get the balls to ask me for weeks, you twat." Alfred was speechless, and before he could stop himself something quite like _anger _began to bubble up inside him. He turned and glared at his new boyfriend._

"_Fuck you!" he snapped._

"_Well I'm sure that'll come into the equation at some point," said Arthur airily, "Now come on, we have an urn to paint."Arthur reached up to kiss the taller boy on the cheek, before grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the cupboard. As Alfred followed him, the only thought in his head was along the lines of;_

_What the hell have I gotten myself into?_

* * *

"… And they all lived happily ever after," said Alfred in a corny, cliché voice, draping an arm around his boyfriend. Arthur snorted.

"But love, you missed out the part two years later where we-" Alfred covered his mouth hastily.

"Okay, story time's over," he said hurriedly, "Time to go to sleep!"

"…"

"…"

"You know, Alfred," said Arthur, as they snuggled down together for another nights rest, "You never did try on that cape. And you did promise…"

* * *

A/N Yay to backstory! Hope you enjoyed and please leave a review :3


	10. Period 9: Public Embarrassment (Relays)

A/N ASDFGHJKL HOLIDAYS! (Translation: Hi). So this is based on an actual PE lesson I had… I have to admit, my mind immediately went into the gutter.

Thank you to Sho-chan669 and Fruitstogether for reviewing and everyone who followed/favourited ^_^

Anyways, I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!

* * *

"Wonderful, just wonderful…" Arthur and the rest of Set Two PE gazed blankly across the bleak, muddy playing field, but even more at the stony faced teacher stood in front of it. He sighed, resigning himself to his sad, sad fate. '_Tell my family I hate them…_' he thought, as he walked slowly to his doom. Alfred, on the other hand, let out an unmanly squeak and dived behind the Brit, wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

"Artie, he's stalking us!" he whispered.

"Alfred…" said Arthur slowly, "This is PE."

"Yea." Arthur sighed.

"Mr. Beilschmidt is a PE teacher."

"He's the stalker PE teacher!" Alfred insisted adamantly.

"We've had him as our PE teacher all year…"

"Exactly!" he exclaimed, "It's a conspiracy to discover our every move and secret and use them against us…" Arthur raised an eyebrow at his boyfriends out of character behaviour.

"Too much sugar?" he asked.

"… Too much sugar."

* * *

"Unfortunately for the side of me that wishes to see you all suffer…" began Mr. Beilschmidt, glaring around at his class, "Mr. Vargas has informed me that it would be 'too cruel' to make you play football in this weather." The group of boys would have cheered… But they knew better than that. "So instead," continued the PE teacher, "We will be doing the eight hundred metre relay." A collective groan came from the students.

"But Sir," said Antonio "Isn't the relay just as muddy as football?"

"Yes," said Mr. Beilschmidt, "But it is the only sporting activity involving a playing field that Julius forgot to mention."

"Why was I expecting something like that…?" the Spaniard deadpanned.

"Moving on," the teacher continued, ignoring Antonio's comment, "I have split you into teams of four. Arguing with my decision will result in your eternal damnation to Set Seven PE. Do you understand?"

"Yes Sir…" mumbled the class unenthusiastically.

* * *

"I hate that guy so much," stated Alfred and Ivan simultaneously.

"Aru," agreed Yao.

"What did we do to deserve this?" Arthur chipped in.

The four of them, '_Team Three_', were lined up on the starting line, wearing the characteristic Horrible Team Vests TM. Arthur sweatdropped as Alfred glared at Ivan over the top of his glasses, and gently tugged on his arm in a not-so-subtle way, guiding him to the back of their small line.

"So to demonstrate the changeover of the baton…" Mr. Beilschmidt continued, "I will need some volunteers…" Standing behind the lines of students, his eyes scanned the crowd of terrified faces. Alfred pushed Ivan and Yao in front of him and ducked down. Ivan, too busy watching Toris' scared face from the other side of the field, didn't notice, but Yao turned around.

"What are you doing aru?" he demanded.

"SSH!" emphasised Alfred, "That guy has it in for us." He gazed imploringly up at the pair, "Pleeease~?"

"So?"

"Just let us hide from him…" pleaded Alfred.

"And why should I let you do that aru?" Yao asked sharply.

"Because otherwise I'm telling the school you were 'becoming one' with Ivan behind the bike sheds," Alfred shot back,

"We were not becoming one we were kissing I wouldn't do anything like tha– fine, whatever." Yao snapped, turning back around. Alfred ducked down, pulling Arthur with him, making them both hidden by the other pair's shadow.

"So, those volunteers…" continued the teacher, scanning the crowd, "Jones, Kirkland! Get up here immediately!"

Ignoring Yao's badly concealed grin '_that's what you get when you try to blackmail aru_', Arthur and Alfred walked to the front of the class. Mr. Beilschmidt handed a baton to the taller boy with a look of contempt and gestured towards the barely visible track marked out in the mud- sorry, grass.

"You," he said to Alfred, "Stay here. Kirkland, stand ten metres away." Arthur walked to the spot, an uneasy feeling of dread (which by now he was far, far too used to) building in the pit of his chest. "Turn around," the teacher instructed, "One leg in front of the other so you can set off quickly. Put your left hand behind you so that Jones can give it to you with his right-"

"What?" said Arthur, turning around slightly startled.

"The baton, Kirkland. The baton," said Mr. Beilschmidt, rolling his eyes. "As I was saying, you should keep facing away from your partner, even after you receive it. It is important to trust your partner to do this properly, if one of you doesn't the whole manoeuvre could go wrong."

"Manoeuvre, Sir?" asked Alfred, his eyes wide, "What man-"

"AS I WAS SAYING BEFORE I WAS SO RUDELY INTERRUPTED," the teacher ploughed on, "After receiving the baton, the receiver must immediately speed up in order to get the baton to the next receiver. As Jones and Kirkland will now… hopefully… demonstrate." Arthur turned to look at his boyfriend and give a sympathetic nod.

"Keep facing backwards until the giver gives you the baton," barked Mr. Beilschmidt.

"He's giving me _what_?" asked Arthur, his eyes widening.

"Just… Stop talking. Both of you," said the teacher wearily, "Now commence the demonstration." Alfred tried to set off at full speed, instead sending a small flurry of dirt over his teachers new white trainers (oops…) and almost falling over. Catching himself and just stopping himself from falling, he looked sheepishly up at Mr. Beilschmidt.

"Um, Sir, I kind of can't…"

"Yes, I know it's a bit wet, but you'll just have to manage," the teacher sighed. Alfred began to run slowly, trying his best not to skid and faceplant the mud in front of the entire class. He was in the process of passing on the dreaded stick of wood (damn, that sounded dirty in his head…), when Mr. Beilschmidt's voice interrupted them.

"STOP! Grip your hand firmly around the baton…" the teacher lectured.

"Am I the only one thinking that that guy was doing something last night?" Alfred half-whispered to Arthur, who turned around and grinned, raising an eyebrow, but revealing that he was thinking the same thing.

"Don't turn around and take it, let them give it to you," snapped Mr. Beilschmidt. Alfred and Arthur couldn't help themselves – both burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"And just what is so entertaining?" asked the PE teacher with a voice like ice. They both stopped, like rabbits caught in headlights.

"Um, well…"

"You see, err…" Mr. Beilschmidt gave up.

"Whatever, go back to your group." His eyes swept over the group. "I need some _other _volunteers… Wang, Braginski! Get up here now." The pair, who had up until now been watching with some amusement, paled. Alfred patted Ivan on the shoulder as he rejoined the rest of the group;

"Have fun with your _receiver_," he whispered, "I know your secret." Ivan only smiled and gazed down from his considerable height.

"You should know by now that's it's hardly a secret," he said happily, "Right Yao-Yao?"

"Huh? Yiwan, not in public aru!"

"Ow, ow, ow, Sunflower I'm sorry!"

Watching the fighting couple slowly make their way to the aura of doom wherein their PE teacher lay in waiting, Alfred wrapped an arm around Arthur's shoulders.

"Aren't you glad we don't fight like that?" he asked. Arthur looked back at him incredulously.

"Just who are you trying to kid?" he replied.

"No one! We don't argue, ever," Alfred insisted.

"Right," demanded Arthur, "So I guess all those fights we had over _everything _don't count!"

"Excuse me, we do not argue! The hero would never do something like that!" snapped Alfred, "You're just saying everything to disguise the fact that you can't actually think of a time!"

"Alfie, what are we doing right now...?"

"We're just having an ar- Oh..."

* * *

One incredibly awkward PE lesson later…

Covered in mud from head to toe, the teams trooped back towards the changing rooms, their moods at an all time low. In the distance, the faint sound of the ambulance that had taken Toris away after he tripped over Heracles' cat, skidded fifteen metres and faceplanted the wall could be heard. Which was why a very sulky Feliks was now complaining loudly about it being 'totally not fair', and a very annoyed Greek was being yelled at by a very angry teacher.

All in all, a typical day at Hetalia Academy.

Arthur and Alfred had emerged relatively unscathed, if looking as if they had just had an unfortunate run-in with a compost heap. Arthur's blonde hair looked more brown than anything else after he fell over a molehill, and Alfred's legs were completely coated after he stepped in a bog. A fucking bog. _Why the hell was there a bog in their playing field_?!

"By the way," Yao called back towards the pair, "That trampoline is coming on amazingly!" Arthur's face paled.

"What the hell? I thought that was scrapped!" he yelled back, "How did you get that past the staff? How could you do that to the library you're supposed to be preserving the books not destroying them for the sake of cheap entertainment-"

"It's so much fun winding him up," Yao grinned quietly to Ivan, as they walked away, "When do you think we should tell him it's all a hoax?"

"Never," replied Ivan, putting an arm around the Chinese boy.

* * *

A/N Because Fruitstogether asked what the Great Breakfast Heist was, please accept this bonus story~

_It was the dead of night, and all that could be heard across the school grounds was a soft rustling of the wind. A lone owl hooted from the treehouse. Leaves rustled in the hedges that lined the edges of the grounds, and above it all the full moon shone brightly, clearly, eerily. _

_Which was the reason why a very tired Alfred was carrying a backpack filled with antique silver cutlery (which Google had promised him would kill werewolves!), a massive pair of binoculars and five layers of coats (in various degrees of too-large). _

_The spare keys to the kitchens, which he had swiped from the caretaker's office at break, were just an afterthought. _

_He crept across the lawn, keeping his head and body low and close to the ground – hoping that this would make up for his top layer of coat being neon yellow. Reaching what he thought was the right door, he fumbled in one of the many pockets until he found what he was looking for. Putting the key in the lock and turning it, he hesitantly pushed the door open. Or so he thought. The heavy wooden slab wouldn't move an inch. That was when Alfred noticed that, as well as the key he had tried, there were many, many more. And they were all unlabelled. _

"_Why me?" he asked himself grumpily. _

_Some time later…_

_Alfred crept through the open door, the moonlight streaming through his only guide through the labyrinth of cooking appliances and cupboards. Finally, he found his target – a large storage container marked with one word; '_Breakfast_'. He opened it, the hinge creaking loudly as he did so. Several displaced bottles of milk teetered precariously on the top shelf, before falling and smashing next to Alfred's feet, causing him to cry out in surprise. _

_By the way, did we mention the kitchens were next to the teacher's quarters? _

_Sounds of movement could be heard from next door. Knowing he had only minutes, Alfred grabbed a conveniently placed food trolley from next to the container and began to pile on the one thing he was here for – the cereal. Thirty boxes of 'ReadyBics – We Promise it's Not Rebranded Dogfood' later, Alfred spun the trolley around and ran with it towards the door. He tried to push it through the door frame… Only to find that it was just too big to fit. _

_There were lights in the corridor outside now. Alfred looked around frantically for another exit and his eyes focused on a door on the opposite side of the room. Most importantly, a door which looked considerably larger than the side door he had snuck in through. Without a moment's hesitation, he dragged the trolley over to it, threw it open and set off. _

_The corridor was unfamiliar, and several times Alfred narrowly avoided running himself and his precious goods into a wall. Several minutes went by, and the kitchen (and the confused teachers now roaming it), was sufficiently far away. Stopping and wiping the sweat from his brow, Alfred took the boxes and began to open them – emptying the cereal onto the floor, taking the action figure from the inside and then carefully replacing the box. The large, random pile of food would surely confuse the cleaner in the morning, but that wasn't really Alfred's concern at this moment in time. He also discovered a coat draped on the bottom shelf of the trolley – deciding that it would look markedly suspicious if he handed it in at lost property the next day, he decided to keep it as well. _

_Suddenly, a torch beam reflected off the wall from around the corner (lights were too mainstream for the elite teachers of Hetalia Academy), and Alfred began to hear the tell-tale voices of three teachers. Panicking, he shoved himself and the trolley into the nearest room and waited with baited breath. Taking the time to look around his new surroundings, he discovered he was in a cookery classroom – one that had recently been used. Batches of what looked like muffins or cakes were lined up along the side, next to a large globe (around the size of a human head) but what piqued the boy's interest was the plate of smoking black _rocks,_ sitting by itself on a desk to the right next to a lone jar of jam. His curiosity getting the better of him, he reached out to touch one of them…_

_An explosion swept through the room, knocking Alfred off his feet and backwards towards the trolley, which slid backwards into the wall. The jam jar fell onto the floor, spilling its contents and pieces of broken glass everywhere. The other bakery products went flying, the globe smashing to the floor soon afterwards. The desk the _things_ had been sitting on was thrown a metre in the air, landing in a twisted, tangled heap. All Alfred could do was shield his face and wait for the blast to be over. _

_The chorus of yells and shouts from outside informed him that hiding was no longer an option. Jumping to his feet and squinting through the thick smoke, he pushed the trolley in the opposite direction to the door. There was another door somewhere over here, right…? _

_Okay, evidently there wasn't… _

_Shit…_

_Alfred pushed his hands up against the window in defeat. Great, now he was trapped. In despair, he threw a fist at the thick glass… Which went straight through. The boy blinked at the huge floor-to-ceiling window he had just smashed, before deciding to ask questions later and just grabbing the trolley and running._

_Away from the school and back in the open air, he breathed a sigh of relief. Well, not _too _much had gone wrong. He was going to call this one a success. _

_Back in the hallway, a teacher had called for help, while the other two milled around in a sleepy state of dazed shock. Mr. Vargas turned to his colleague and gave his trademark smile. _

"_Don't worry, Wilhelm, it was probably just a badger."_

"_A… Badger?"_

"_Yeah," said the head teacher, "You know what they're like… We have a real problem with them right now, you know." _

"_But still…"_

* * *

A/N And that, kids, is how Alfred got his super-strength! XD

Thanks for reading and please leave a review!


	11. Period 10: Vaccination Day

A/N Aaw don't we all love jabs? I think I was in a sadistic mood when I wrote this chapter… By the way: This made-up injection procedure is not accurate. Please don't hate me.

Thank you to Sho-chan669 and OutToGarden for reviewing and everyone who followed/favourited ^_^

Disclaimer: Hetalia isn't mine. Neither is Google Maps.

* * *

For once, Arthur thought today was a good day. However, as always, a good day is always inevitably ruined. In, of course, the way that said day will go wrong is specifically tailored to a combination of the victim's personal phobias, hatreds, and secrets they would rather other people didn't know, all topped off with a sprinkle of terrible timing and appalling bad luck.

Naturally, Arthur was, at the time, blissfully unaware of that – otherwise, he would have most definitely spent the day curled up under their duvet, with Alfred as his barrier between himself and the cruel world that always conspired against him and sought to ruin his rare periods of happiness with unimaginable horror and pain…

Okay, maybe he was overreacting.

* * *

"THIS IS NOT AN OVERREACTION!" Arthur yelled, pushing Alfred in front of him in the queue, "I just want you to go first!"

"Shush!" said Ms. Héderváry, "There are younger students down there doing a test!"

"BUT THIS IS VERY-" began Arthur, but Alfred pulled him to his chest, muffling his yell.

"Don't speak to her," he said fearfully, "You don't know what she's done…" Memories of _that _detention flooded into his head, and he cried out in terror, backing away from the Hungarian, who gave them an odd look.

"Are you alright, boys?" she asked, tilting her head. Alfred's eyes opened wide in panic and he backed away, still holding Arthur.

"Absolutely-fine-miss-nothing-to-worry-about," he babbled quickly, before grabbing his boyfriend's hand and dragging them both to the back of the queue. Lovino Vargas turned to look at them, before raising an eyebrow

"Hey bastards, you know it's going to be at least an hour before the nurse gets to us…" Arthur straightened up.

"Really?" he said, his face lighting up.

"Huh?" said Lovino, "Why is that a good thing?" The Brit's eyes widened like a rabbit in headlights.

"Be-because we have double geography right now," he managed, "A-and it's really boring and I'm so glad we get to miss it…" Lovino gave him an odd look.

"Yeah but you could just hang around for a bit afterwards like those guys over there," he said, gesturing to the ten or so students leaning against the back wall, "AND WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU PUTTING YOUR HANDS, TOMATO BASTARD?!" As a slap resonated through the room, Alfred turned back to his boyfriend.

"Don't worry, Artie, it's not that scary," he said, squeezing the shorter boy's hand.

"I'm not scared!" snapped Arthur, "Where the hell did you get that idea from?"

"Oh… Okay…" said Alfred, not letting go of the shorter boy's hand, "But if you are, the hero will-"

"I AM NOT SCARED. ESPECIALLY NOT OF THOSE BIG, LONG, FRIGHTENING, NEEDLES WITH REALLY SHARP ENDS THAT HURT!"

"Quiet at the back," called Ms. Héderváry, looking up from the front of the line. After that, a stony silence fell over the back of the queue. The minutes ticked by. Antonio got slapped again. A terrifying wail came from behind the curtain where the injections were taking place. Horrible baggy shirts with easily rolled-up sleeves were handed out to their small group. Arthur stared into the abyss of the green walls and wished he could somehow blend in to them for the next two hours until the nurse went home. Alfred swung their still joined hands backwards and forwards and hummed obliviously.

_Tick, tick, tick…_

* * *

"Next," called the nurse. Alfred looked expectantly at Arthur, but instead found himself being pushed forwards.

"Eh?" he asked, "But you were in front-"

"But it would be so unheroic for you to go second!" said Arthur unconvincingly, not meeting his boyfriends eyes.

"It… would?"

"Yes!" said Arthur, "Now go on, the nurse is waiting for you…" Alfred looked quizzically at Arthur for a moment, before shrugging and ducking under the curtain.

"Well, okay then… See you in a minute, babe." Alfred waited for the shorter boy's protest to his least favourite nickname, but to his surprise, none came. "Um, Artie?" he called, about to push up the curtain when a crisp voice called him over.

"Jones, is it? Please come over here and take a seat," said the nurse, gesturing to a chair next to her desk, which was littered with plasters and, er, stickers?

"But I just need to talk to my-" he began.

"NOW," the nurse scowled, her eyes flashing dangerously behind her reading glasses. Gukping and trying not to show fear, Alfred walked over to her and sat down, keeping as far away from her as possible. Needles weren't the thing that scared him, but this woman certainly was.

* * *

Arthur, too busy fretting to pay much attention to his surroundings, leaned against the wall, the only one in line who was yet to face the horror. Francis caught his eye and snickered. He mouthed what looked suspiciously like _'my poor little rosbif'_, grabbed hold of his arm and pretended to pout. With a jolt of fear, Arthur realised that the Frenchman knew the truth. Childhood friends were the worst.

The door flew open and Feliks strutted in, followed by a harried Toris who was desperately goading him to walk a '_little bit faster, because now we're late and we'll miss them_ -'

"Calm down," said Feliks, "Not my fault you wouldn't help me choose my outfit." He twirled a strand of hair around his finger, "Anyway, there's like, loads of time. See, Arthur's here." He began to walk over to him, before Heracles pounced. Arthur blinked, having never seen the Greek move so fast.

"So that's what you did with Hera," he said, grabbing hold of the brown fur adorning the blonde's neck. Feliks scowled.

"What do you mean?" he demanded, "I, like, saw it outside my room so I just assumed it was a gift and picked it up! It goes really well with this shirt, don't you think?"

"That is my cat."

"No, it's a scarf! My scarf!"

"_Meeeeeeeeeeeeow~_" The situation soon resolved itself when the 'scarf' slowly sat up on Feliks' shoulder, stretched, then immediately fell back to sleep again. There was silence.

"Well, it like, fell asleep on my shoulders," said Feliks decisively, "So clearly I should be able to keep it."

"No. That is my cat."

"Mi amigo, it does bring out his eyes… Why doesn't he keep it just for today?"

"But it is Heracles-san's cat…"

"Fur is very in this year, I've heard."

"Ve~ This spot on its fur looks like Michelangelo~!"

"Everyone, please calm down… I'm sure we can reach a compromise!"

"That is my cat."

"Become one with Russia and you can have all the scarves you want, da?"

"I will become one with you, brother…"

Francis watched with an amused expression as Arthur slowly backed away from the arguing crowd, reaching behind him for the door, edging it open, before turning and sprinting down the corridor. Oh wait, geography wasn't expecting him back for at least thirty minutes. And he was hardly in a hurry to spend more time with_ that_ teacher. Last lesson, she had put condoms into his and Alfred's exercise books…

Breathing hard from his run, he spied the infamous caretaker's cupboard. Realising that escaping to further off places would require him to move his legs (ugh, effort…), he decided that the mental strain of nearly being impaled by a ten-metre needle had drained him sufficiently of energy for further exercise to be detrimental to his health. Action justified, he pulled open the door and crept inside.

Exaggeration, what exaggeration?

* * *

**Meanwhile…**

Alfred walked out from behind the curtain and sighed.

"Just wait until you get in there, Artie," he said, stretching, "That nurse is a total asshole. She acts like she's so nice when you go in there, but do like anything wrong and she just goes EVIL. Really. It's funny, right?" he said, turning around, "Wait, A-Artie?" He looked around for his boyfriend. "Why'd he go?"

"Thirty Euros and the information is all yours," crooned a voice from behind him, "Also, she hates me as well. And Toni and Gil. And _everyone_."

"Whatever. And the hero doesn't need help to find his boyfriend," scowled Alfred in determination.

However, twenty minutes later, he was beginning to regret this decision. Why was this school so big anyway? He looked blankly around the latest hallway he had found himself in, and realised that he was in the Science Corridor. The Science Corridor at the opposite end of the school site to the nurse's office. Fucking wonderful. There was no way Arthur would be here. Sarcastically praising his sense of direction, he spun on his heel and ran back the way he came.

Well, er, he _thought_ that was the way he came…

Some time later, Alfred skidded to a halt outside the one of the few places he thought he had forgotten. But it wasn't where Arthur was. How convenient. B-but his phone had told him… Arthur HAD to be here. The apps don't lie! They… they don't… Alfred sank to his knees in despair.

"_Can't… have… jabs… too… horrible…"_ Alfred sat bolt upright. The voice, the suspiciously Arthur-like voice, was drifting towards him from the caretaker's cupboard. Ah. Another place he hadn't checked. He slowly got to his feet and walked quietly towards the door, before pushing it open to reveal Arthur rocking backwards and forwards in the corner, his hands over his ears and tears running down his face.

"A-Are you okay?" Alfred asked hopefully. This may not have been the most helpful question.

"DO I BLOODY LOOK OKAY?" Should have been the response he anticipated, but instead he was caught off guard as a now angry Arthur slapped his cheek. Hard.

"Ow…" he winced, "Come on Artie~ It doesn't hurt that much, heh…" Alfred grabbed his boyfriend's arm and attempted to drag him out of the room, "Let's just get it over with."

"NO!" yelled Arthur, pushing his boyfriend's shoulder to try to loosen the grip. The American immediately doubled over in pain.

"Fuck, Artie, not _that_ shoulder!" As soon as those words had left his mouth, Alfred realised that that may not have been the best thing to say to a person scared of injections. Arthur shuffled backwards, his arms behind his back so that his boyfriend couldn't grab hold of them again, until his back was against the wall. Wasn't this going well?

"Heh, I'm just kidding," Alfred said, waving his left arm around and trying not to wince as he did so, "It doesn't hurt at all! I was just trying to make you stop struggling so you'd come and… You're seeing right through this aren't you?"

"Yes." Alfred sighed.

"Just get it over with already," he said, "I'll be there and I'll hold your hand so it won't hurt."

"And make me look like a wimp in front of our whole Year?" Arthur replied.

"They won't know."

"They will," said the other blonde immediately, "They will always know. They know everything. They always will. They always will… Everyone always wants to know just so they can use it against us. They want to know. When there's a will there's a way. Nothing we do will ever be, will ever be secret. Hell, they probably know we're here right now. There's no way, there's no way I can…" He looked up at Alfred's face, hoping he was fooled. He was not.

"Okay," Alfred snapped, "This injection is not worth a mental breakdown. Come on." He grabbed Arthur's shoulder with his good arm and tried to prise him away from the wall. But like a stubborn child, he wouldn't move an inch. Alfred tried to divert him; "And how would they all know where we were when I couldn't find you?"

"Because no one else uses Google Maps with their boyfriend's name in the search bar to find said boyfriend," said Arthur primly, before Alfred seized the opportunity and used his distraction to pull them both away from the back of the cupboard and out into the hallway.

"I don't care Artie, I got you out of the-"

"-Make a closet joke and I will castrate you-"

"-_Cupboard,"_ finished Alfred, "Also, how did you know I used Google Maps?!"

"Just intuition," said Arthur, rolling his eyes before remembering what he was about to face.

"Don't even think about it," Alfred said quickly, seeing Arthur's eyes wander back towards his hiding place.

* * *

"Oh hello, dearie," smiled the nurse, pulling the curtain aside as Arthur walked in. The small crowd of students had since been, to his delight, been ushered back to lessons. He would have never been able to live down appearing in the state he was in otherwise. "Oh, and you," she continued, her face falling, "Why are _you_ here?"

"He's my boyfriend," Alfred replied defensively.

"Humph, the poor boy," she sighed, "Well come in if you must."

"Wha-What did I-?"

"Now honey, if you want to sit on this chair," the nurse continued sweetly, pulling out the chair for Arthur, "I just need to fill in this form."

"She seems really nice," Arthur whispered happily, "I'm so glad it's not someone scary…" Alfred looked at him in disbelief.

"Really?"

"Well, yes…" he replied, slightly confused. Alfred was just about to launch into a rant on the professional's hatred of humanity and how any moment now she was going to show her true colours, when he was interrupted.

"Is there any chance you may be pregnant?" the nurse asked, looking up from her form.

"No," said Arthur.

"Don't lie, Artie!" said Alfred, glaring, "You know what that teacher-"

"No it is," said the nurse, sending another death glare in Alfred's direction, "Now I'm just going to get the needle, wait here alright?" She disappeared for a moment, and Alfred immediately turned to his boyfriend.

"How could you lie to her like that?!"

"Males can't get pregnant, twat!" Arthur retorted.

"Then why did she ask?"

"Because it's a form for fucks sake!"

"Jones, please refrain from swearing in my office," said the nurse, pushing the curtain aside and brandishing a small needle. Alfred stared at her in disbelief.

"It wasn't even me! Why… _Why do you hate me_?"

"Now, Mr. Kirkland, please roll your sleeve up and give me your left shoulder," she continued, ignoring Alfred (who was too busy plotting some elaborate revenge to notice). While he did so, she tore open the packet and examined the sharp point of the needle. The very, very sharp point that gleamed menacingly every time the light caught it and sent a long, thin shadow across the opposite wall…

"Just hurry up and do it already," said Arthur, squeezing his eyes shut and gripping his boyfriend's forearm tightly, "Get it over with so I can spend the rest of my life in horrible agony unable to have anything touch my arm in case burning pain shoots down it and I have to go into rehabilitation to deal with the emotional suffering and withdrawal and crippling side effects and-"

"Aaand we're done," chirped the nurse, dabbing at the small spot of blood on the boy's shoulder with cotton wool, "Would you like a plaster?"

"-And I'll never be able to make tea with my left hand again and waitwhat?!"

"All done," repeated the nurse cheerily, "Now you can get back to your lesson." She offered Arthur a small plaster and a large 'Well Done' sticker.

"… Are you making fun of me?" said Arthur through gritted teeth. Alfred laughed, took the sticker and stuck it to the front of Arthur's blazer.

"Nope, but I am," he winked.

* * *

A/N The idea of Arthur with a massive 'Well Done' sticker was too much of a funny image to not include XD. I hope you enjoyed!

Please leave a review, and I will see you all next Monday~


	12. Period 11: Theatrical Prep

A/N Hello again! Aren't you all pleased to see me? *crickets chirp and tumbleweed rolls past*

Thank you to MewWinx96 and Sho-chan669 for reviewing and everyone who followed/favourited ^_^

Disclaimer: Not mine, and never will be.

* * *

"H-hey Artie…" Alfred called nervously from the door to their room. Arthur yawned and sat up slowly in the bed, rubbing his eyes and gazing around blearily.

"Hm? What's the matter?" he asked sleepily. Alfred walked back over to their bed and flashed his boyfriend a piece of paper covered with awfully, _awfully_ familiar handwriting. His breath caught in his throat and a feeling of dread began to build in his stomach. The American was still reading the last sentence, his eyes wide. He handed Arthur the letter and sat down on the duvet in shock.

"Artie…" he asked slowly, "Are you… seriously… into that sort of stuff?"

"What?!" exclaimed Arthur, "No! I mean yes, but no! And ARGH," he slammed his hand against the headboard, "It's too early for this. I'm going to get a cup of tea." In the kitchen, the Brit watched the kettle boil and searched his mind for an explanation. How did they know? Arthur's mind raced, trying to think of a time he might have let it slip. Oh. Fuck. Now he remembered. His hand clenched around the handle of his mug and he gritted his teeth. Damn it all.

"Um, babe…" Alfred walked slowly into the room, still holding the letter, "Can we talk about thi-"

"Was that coffee I heard you say?" Arthur blurted quickly, "Of course you can have some coffee, love, I know how much you like to have caffeine in the morning especially on a day like this and you know it's really pretty this morning look the Sun's out for once and there's a few clouds but not the sort that rain and here take your coffee and it's going to be a lovely day don't you think absolutely wonderful we could go for a walk later outside and just enjoy the weather not being rubbish for once-"

"_We need to talk_." Alfred backed his boyfriend against the sideboard, the hot beverage in his hand doing nothing to distract the shorter boy from his terrifying expression. Arthur averted his gaze and shrank as far backwards as he could.

"Ehe… He… Oh crap…" Alfred brandished the paper in his face.

"Just what is the meaning of this?" he snapped angrily, "Super-sexy-pirate-porn? Penis-penis-penis? Hardcore-fuckery-doo-dah? Sexy-nekos-unleashed? I didn't know you were looking at these kinds of websites!"

"If you didn't guess you're probably the most naïve person on the planet," said Arthur, still not looking the taller boy in the eyes, "And since when did my internet history matter to you?"

"Because I'm your boyfriend!" Alfred glowered, "Why do you need to get off on these sluts, huh? You have me! Tell me the truth, now."

"Well sorry I was picking up tips," Arthur replied, trying to sound nonchalant, "And can _you _fuck for an hour in five different positions?"

"Artie, what the hell?!" Alfred exclaimed. Arthur shrugged.

"You ask for an honest answer, you get an honest answer…"

"…"

"…"

"I worry about you sometimes," said Alfred, sipping his drink and trying not to look disturbed.

"You should," Arthur scowled, "Unless we do what they say, the whole school will know about this! Channel your protectiveness into helping me avert such an event. We have to do what they say…" the Brit grimaced, "I don't want to, but it's the only choice I have…" Alfred put down his coffee and put a hand on Arthur's shoulder.

"Hey, babe…" he said softly, "I'll help you, don't worry." Arthur looked up.

"Really?"

"Yeah!" said Alfred, slightly more enthusiastically, "What hero would I be if I didn't even help my own boyfriend?"

"A pretty shitty one," said the shorter blonde, setting down his own mug and wrapping his arms around Alfred's chest. A small sigh escaped his lips.

"Wait… no resistance?" the American asked, patting his boyfriends back, "Hang on… You wanted me to offer, didn't you?"

"Yes," came the blunt reply.

* * *

"I can't believe we're actually doing what those wankers want," Arthur grumbled, as the pair crept silently towards the backstage door of the drama studio. The first paragraph of what could only be described as blackmail still rung in his mind;

_Bonjour, Hola and Hallo!_

_As your _very_ close friends, we have a small favour to ask of you… As you should know (however I doubt you actually do, non?), the school's much-anticipated production of 'I Like Your Booty But I'm Not Gay' will have its premiere tonight at 8:00pm. Now, as revenge for the drama club interrupting us when we were so quietly and unobtrusively playing ping-pong in their changing rooms using raw eggs and solidified week-old gravy (which is why I asked for my own dressing room ohonhon~), we would like you to sabotage this play. This must occur between 4:30pm and 7:30pm, when we will be in detention and have a convenient alibi. Enclosed you will find all the materials you need. You have enough experience in havoc-wreaking to know what to do with them._

_In case you were a little reluctant to comply with our request, due to our school's lovely discipline policy please bear in mind that we are in the possession of a few pieces of sensitive information Arthur would rather not reveal. In case there is any doubt, please allow us to elaborate on just what this 'information' entails…_

Arthur shook his head to get the thoughts out of his mind, and focused his attention on the door. It was only three hours until lights up, which in theory was going to be plenty of time. In theory. Fortunately, the cast were yet to arrive, which made things a lot easier – all that was left to do before sneaking in was to WAIT FOR THE DAMN CARETAKER TO MOVE. His blood boiled slowly in his veins as the man slowly, _slowly_ mopped the floor, the mop squeaking over the tiles like nails on a chalkboard. Alfred winced and sat down.

"Why does nothing ever go to plan?" he whined, looking down at his hands, "Is the universe conspiring against us?" Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, because you'll be the one who suffers if we don't manage this," he said sarcastically. Alfred scowled.

"Hey, I was being concerned for you! Also by the way you aren't forgiven…" Now it was Arthur's turn to scowl, as he sat down beside his boyfriend and sulked.

"Oh get over it already," he glared, "Everyone does it! Don't you think that detention proved it to you?"

"DON'T YOU DARE MENTION THAT TRAUMATIC EVENT TO ME EVER," bellowed Alfred at the top of his lungs, "NOT ONLY WAS IT MENTALLY SCARRING, IT HAS ALSO BEEN USED AS A MEANS TO BLACKMAIL MY POOR INNOCENT VULNERABLE BOYFRIEND!" Deciding to ignore the 'poor innocent vulnerable boyfriend' comment for the sake of not continuing yet another argument, Arthur pulled them both flat to the floor as the caretaker looked around for the source of the rather loud noise.

"Hey? Who's there?" the man's voice echoed down the hallway, causing both boys to freeze. It was silent for a long moment, before a sigh could be heard, followed by the sound of retreating footsteps away from where they were hiding, just around the corner. Getting slowly to their feet, Arthur retrieved the keys included in the letter from his pocket and they both crept towards the door. Slipping the key marked 'Backstage' into the lock, he slowly pushed the door open. Alfred walked through first, and began to rummage in his backpack.

"Okay, what was the first thing…?" he said to himself as he rooted through the hoards of empty energy drink cans, books and collectable pencils ("ARTIE LOOK THEY'RE SO CUTE I MUST HAVE THEM ALL"), before finally pulling out what appeared to be a CD. On the case was marked 'Sound Effects', in big red letters. Arthur plucked it from his hand and examined it.

"So… this'll go somewhere near the switchboard, right?" he said uncertainly, looking around, "I'll go sort that out, you do the second one."

"Okay, Artie," shouted Alfred to his boyfriend as he walked towards the other side of the room, beginning to sift through his bag again for the… Whatever-the-other-thing-was. Sheesh, all this theatre stuff was so complicated… He was just celebrating discovering an unopened can of coke amongst the empty energy drinks, when his boyfriend called to him from the other side of the room.

"Um, Alfie…" asked Arthur slowly, "How does a switchboard work?" Alfred opened his mouth to reply, before he realised he had absolutely no idea either. He walked over and examined the machine. A monster that took up an entire wall, covered by colourful buttons and levers, it was truly a sight to behold. And an intimidating one.

"Um…" was all he could manage, "Maybe, er… this one?" he pressed a random lever. The sound of a bomb going off shook the studio, followed by rapid machine gun fire and the sound of cavalry. There were even smoke effects – you had to admit, the special effects team knew their stuff. But…

"Well, evidently not that lever," said Arthur, waving smoke away from his face and peering at the bemusing assortment of coloured buttons as if they were a deadly packet of fruit gums. "We should try… This one!" He too flicked a random switch, causing a massive fake axe to swing directly towards them. Alfred shrieked and pulled Arthur to the ground to avoid being hit by the metal- oh wait, cardboard…

"Is there even a button to open the disk drive?" Alfred asked, scratching his head when they had both gotten to their feet.

"Is there even a disk drive?" Arthur wondered out loud, equally puzzled. He splayed his fingers out across the buttons in frustration, taking care not to press any.

"Hey, babe," said Alfred, bending over to look at the side of the machine, "D'ya think this slot marked 'SFX Master CD' is relevant?" Arthur leaned over to look, watching as his boyfriend pulled out the old disk. Wordlessly, he handed over the 'Sound Effects' CD, and saw Alfred push it easily into the machine. It whirred ominously for a few seconds, before falling silent. Everything looked exactly the same as before. The coloured buttons flashed creepily.

"So, did it work?" asked Arthur apprehensively. The taller boy shrugged.

"I guess we'll have to check," replied Alfred, pressing the button that previously caused the war sound effects. Instead of the battlefield noises, an obnoxious tune blared out over the speakers;

_Afro circus afro circus AFRO polka dot polka dot polka dot AFRO DUH DUH DUHDUHDUHDUHDUH DUHDUH –_

Arthur covered his ears, unlike Alfred who began to dance along, having the time of his life. Pouting when the music ended, he was about to reach for the button again when Arthur cut him off.

"Okay, now we've established the new and improved switchboard is working…" he said, "What was the other thing we had to do?" Alfred cursed and delved back into his bag again. Five minutes of disorganised searching and Arthur tapping his foot later, the American pulled out several crumpled squares of what looked like thin plastic and presented them to his boyfriend.

"Um, do these mean anything to you?" he asked. Arthur's expression said it all.

"Maybe they are… Weird drama placemats?" the shorter boy guessed. Looking at Alfred's expression, he snarled, "What? Do you have a better explanation?"

"Okay, placemats it is…" said Alfred, looking around for a table, "But, ah, placemats for what?" He walked backwards, gazing towards the ceiling as if one would magically appear if he stared hard enough (you never know!). Unfortunately, this was at the expense of watching where his feet were going, and he tripped over a loose cable, falling backwards into a set of lights and sending them clattering to the floor. The metal frame of the third one along fell out, the coloured film covering it tearing. Alfred blinked and looked at it.

"Hey Artie!" he yelled across the room, "I've found what the placemat thingys are really for."

"Oh now you tell me," huffed Arthur, looking up from the very nicely set table he had made from a cardboard box of props, some flimsy chairs and five sets of deformed plastic cutlery. Alfred nodded and held up the frame.

"Heh. Come over here and help me get these in and put them back up." Reluctantly, Arthur obliged, picking up the plastic films from each meticulously set place with an air of almost sadness and bringing them over to his boyfriend, who carefully slotted them into the frames and, after several failed attempts, managed to attach them back in front of the lights.

"So what do you think is on them?" Arthur asked, as they stepped back to admire their work, "I could only see a load of black smudges."

"Well because it's those three," said Alfred matter-of-factly, "It's highly unlikely to be anything good." He met Arthur's gaze and smiled sheepishly. "Okay, I really want to see as well… Where's the switch for these things…?"

A small click, and the lights beamed across the room, showing up on the curtain which marked the barrier between the backstage and the stage. So, from right to left… Naked woman, penises, a nude depiction of Mr. Vargas (now there was a frightening image Alfred would never be able to get out of his mind), a tentacle monster and an up-skirt shot of Natalia. Yep, some poor actor was going to get beaten into oblivion in the middle of tonight's performance. Both boys blinked stupidly for a second or two as their eyes adjusted, before Arthur was the first to speak;

"That seems like the sort of distasteful thing-" he began.

"Oh, _you're_ the judge of distasteful?" interrupted Alfred, sending an accusatory look.

"-Shut up. It seems like something those three would go for," the shorter boy finished, "So it would appear that we have completed the task."

"Yes!" said Alfred, beaming at his boyfriend, "We're all done, now we can get the hell out of here and make sure your secret is safe. Which you still aren't forgiven for- Artie, are you listening to me?" It was fairly clear that Arthur was not listening. In the far corner of the room was a small, wooden door, with 'Stage Manager's Dressing Room (Oui I do need one)' written on a sign stuck beside it. It was temptingly ajar. Very, very, temptingly… Especially when the Brit remembered that Francis was the Stage Manager… So, so, tempting- Fuck it.

"We should go and take a look," Arthur said, an evil grin spreading across his face, "Let's go and get our sweet revenge…"

"Um…" said Alfred, not quite sure what to say, "What about… er… no?" He shrugged, "It seems like a bit of a waste of time. We won't find anything in there…"

"Don't be stupid," snapped Arthur, "There's bound to be something incriminating in that room. Let's go take a look!" Alfred sighed, but followed his boyfriend, albeit dubiously.

"But Artie," he said, "Why would Francis just leave things like that lying around his dressing room? If he knew we'd be here, wouldn't he have hidden it?"

"No," said Arthur flatly.

"Why?" a puzzled Alfred questioned.

"Because, to be honest, he knows that we're going to hate doing what he says," explained Arthur, "He's going to be expecting us to do the bare minimum and then get out. Also, he probably thinks I'm too scared of everyone finding out about… that… to try anything."

"You mean you aren't scared?" asked Alfred, "You could've fooled me." Arthur gave him a look that would kill.

"Let's just go."

* * *

Alfred pushed the door open slowly and snuck into the room. Francis had certainly taken his time to decorate it to his style – several vases of roses adorned the shelves, the porcelain reflecting the lightbulbs stuck around the large mirror set atop a dressing table. His 'Stage Manager' shirt hung on a coat hanger next to it. A set of drawers, elegantly carved, were placed in the corner, covered by a few carefully picked ornaments and another mirror. In fact, there was another mirror on the wall, and one more in the far corner. He checked the back of the door – one there too.

"He really enjoys admiring his hair," said Arthur flatly, not looking at all surprised by the room, "Please don't ask how I know." Alfred nodded and took another look around. He couldn't see anything obviously out of place, anything that could be used as revenge… Arthur was clearly having other ideas, as he pulled open the top drawer and began rummaging through it.

"Is there likely to be anything in there?" Alfred asked. Arthur shook his head.

"No, but it's worth a try. You check the dressing table." The taller boy approached the table slowly – taking care not to move anything on the top itself, he eased open the top drawer and examined the contents. Hairbrushes. Lots and lots of hairbrushes. Oh wait, and a few hair ties and hairpins. And some hairspray.

"Wow, you weren't kidding, were you Artie?" Alfred remarked to himself, raising an eyebrow before moving down to the next drawer. He pulled it open, only to be faced with a selection of dress shirts (what were they doing in a dressing table?), a few bottles of wine and- "CHOCOLATE!" Alfred grinned, grabbing hold of the box, "Artie, I knew it was right for us to come in here! This is the best." He prised off the lid, and was just about to place the delicious, sugary treat in his mouth when-

"NO," snapped Arthur, grabbing the delicious fudge from underneath Alfred's nose. He glared at the shorter blonde and made a grab for it, but Arthur took a step backwards so his arm fell just short.

"Why can't we?" he protested.

"Well, because it's stealing!" Alfred scowled.

"But we're only nicking a few…" he pouted, "And anyway, you hate the guy…" An idea struck him. "And you know, there's a few of your favourites. Wouldn't it be _awful_ if they were _wasted_ on someone who wasn't going to _fully appreciate_ them." The second Arthur looked up, Alfred knew he had won.

"Wait… There are chocolate hazelnuts in there?" Arthur's frown dissipated. Alfred nodded.

"Yep! Lots and lots!" Before he realised it, the fudge was back in his hand, and the rest of the box was over in the corner with Arthur, who was furiously rooting through the layers of tissue paper and picking out his favourites. Rather more than the one Alfred had eaten.

"Don't judge me!" was the only response he got to his pointed stare.

"By the way," Alfred said through his mouthful, "There was nothing else in the top two drawers."

"Nothing over here either..." Arthur replied, his mouth filled with confectionery.

Alfred swallowed and moved to the bottom drawer, but it stuck and wouldn't open. "Argh, dammit! Artie, you don't happen to have the key for this, do you?" Arthur stood up and walked over to join his boyfriend.

"Nope," he said, examining the drawer, then the ring of keys, "But it looks easy to pick. The wanker probably has hairpins somewhere in there, use them." As Alfred retrieved them from the top, Arthur stared at the locked drawer.

"Wonder what he has in there that's so secret…" his face darkened, "Alfie… Please hurry up so I can see…" Alfred looked up, and gulped at the terrifying expression on the shorter boy's face – something between a thunderstorm and a villain's grin was probably the best description.

"Um, yeah…" he said awkwardly, "Just a sec…" the lock popped, and Alfred breathed a sigh of relief. Arthur leaned over his shoulder and pulled it open quickly, revealing the contents – a book. With 'Diary' written on the front.

"Ha-ha!" crowed Arthur, picking it up and flipping it open to a random page, "I told you we'd find something!" Alfred, meanwhile, remained slightly doubtful.

"Um, babe…" he said slowly, "Don't you think this seems a bit too obvious? I mean, why would he hide his diary in-"

"Shush," said Arthur, clearly not having heard a word, "I'm looking for revenge worthy information…" Several minutes passed, of Arthur reading and Alfred trying to convince him that this clearly wasn't the real thing, followed by Arthur ignoring him and continuing anyway. Alfred had given up and sunk back against the leg of the dressing table, when he heard the book close with a definitive snap.

"Right, I think that's all I need to know," said Arthur, grinning from ear to ear as he replaced the diary, "Game, set and match to me- I mean us! Let's go." He grabbed his boyfriend's hand and half walked, half dragged him to the door.

"But Artie we need to put stuff back and close the draw-" Arthur cut him off.

"It doesn't matter! He won't say anything unless he wants all his secrets splashed across the school notices tomorrow morning…" Alfred winced.

"Don't you think that a little harsh?"

"No." the shorter boy gave his boyfriend a cheery smile before walking to the backstage door and opening it. Where he came face to face with Francis himself.

"Mon petit rosbif~" he crooned condescendingly, "So nice to see you could join us! I take it everything is in place?" Arthur's smile immediately fell back into a frown.

"Yes," he snapped, "There you go, frog. We've done what you want, so hand it over." Francis smirked and pulled ten sheets of paper out of his bag and placed them delicately in Arthur's waiting hand.

"There you go~," he smiled happily. Too happily.

"Are these _all_ the copies?" asked Arthur, narrowing his eyes.

"Oui," said Francis, turning to walk away. At what he gauged was a safe distance, he spun around and called back, "Well, except for the copy I uploaded to my blog."

"START RUNNING, TWAT, IF YOU WANT TO SURVIVE." Alfred watched his angry boyfriend chase the Frenchman down the corridor, and lamented at how these events no longer seemed to shock him. Hetalia Academy was certainly a unique place, for better or worse. Thinking about it, probably worse…

… Sometimes, he swore he was too used to this weirdness.

* * *

A/N Another chapter done! Thanks for reading and please leave a review :3


	13. Period 12: Avoiding Execution

A/N Hello everyone!

Thank you to Sho-chan669, OutToGarden and Alba The Great for reviewing, and everyone who followed/favourited! ^_^

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. Please don't sue me. The only thing I have worth taking is chocolate cake.

* * *

"Oh for fucks sake…" was Arthur's reaction, when he saw his boyfriend walking towards the bed and holding a piece of paper. Looking nervous. Looking at one section over and over again as if he was trying to comprehend it. Glancing at Arthur, and then back at the paper.

"Um, Artie…"

"OKAY I KNOW!" yelled Arthur, "I KNOW THE THINGS I'VE BEEN DOING. I know you think I'm a pervert, and well… MAYBE I AM. So what if I like things that you would find weird? So what if I wish we could swordfight naked on a tightrope stretched over a trampoline patterned with Playboy magazine covers? So what if I want to eat scones off your chest while dressed as a Victorian? _So what if I enjoy twerking?! _You should start accepting me for who I am and stop holding me to some ideal of a normal person!" He stared at his boyfriend defiantly.

"Um, babe…"Alfred began slowly.

"What?!" demanded Arthur bitterly, sinking a little lower into the duvet, "Want to humiliate me even more?! Want to know every little mildly questionable thing I've ever done? Want to know every _majorly_ questionable thing I've ever done?"

"Babe, as much as I kinda would…" said Alfred, "This has nothing to do with blackmail. Well, not directly." Arthur stopped dead.

"So you mean I just told you all that-"

"Yeah, you didn't need to," the taller boy shrugged, "But thanks for letting me know, and to be honest I was expecting it to be worse- OKAY NO I DIDN'T PLEASE PUT THE BOOK OF CURSES AWAY. Now I can finally understand why you have all those costumes…" Arthur snarled and blushed simultaneously.

"Well if it isn't about the blackmail directly," he said, trying to change the topic, "What is it about?" Alfred showed his boyfriend the paper;

_School Notice for Saturday 20th:_

_School production cruelly sabotaged! Teachers calling for the culprits to step forwards!_

"Oh, just a letter about the play we fucked up," the Brit finished airily. Alfred looked at him in disbelief.

"Aren't you sorry?" he asked, "I mean, we seriously messed that thing up…" Arthur shrugged.

"I've done worse," he glared at Alfred, "Don't even think of asking or I'll stupefy your ass into next week."

"Okay…" he said quietly, backing towards the door, "Let's just… leave now… I want breakfast…"

"Ah-hem." Alfred turned around.

"Yes?"

"Haven't we… Forgotten something?" Alfred looked around the room.

"… No?" Arthur waved a pen at his boyfriend.

"Err…" said Alfred, "Buying new stationary?" Arthur shook his head.

"Try again." He picked up yesterdays blackmail letter and pointed at it.

"Um, restocking paper to doodle on in science?"

"No!" snapped Arthur, "Well, yes…" he picked up a few sheets of scrap paper and shoved them into his bag, "But no! Something else."

"Um…" Arthur sighed.

"Our revenge. Remember?" Alfred began to shake his head, before remembering.

"Oh yeah! That one that I'm 99% sure isn't going to work and is only going to make our situation ten times worse?"

"Don't be such a pessimist," said Arthur, shaking his head, "And of course it will work! Just you wait and see…" He grabbed a clean sheet of paper and gestured for Alfred to come over and sit next to him. "Just help me write this, okay?"

Half an hour later, a doubtful Alfred looked over the complete letter;

_Dear Frog,_

_You stupid fucking twat, thinking you could get away with blackmailing me! Well let me tell you, bastard, you should have seen this coming. As part of your retribution for your heinous crime against my person, I ask (which when it comes to me, has connotations with demand and or else – I just thought I should remind you) that you do _me _a favour. To be perfectly honest with you, my brain isn't functioning too well this morning after being awoken by my idiot boyfriend-_

"Artie, that was mean!" Alfred pouted.

_\- So I trust that you can find some way for you to publically humiliate yourself over the course of the day. And thanks to your pathetic attempt at bending me to your whim, I am in possession of… How did you put it yourself… _Sensitive information_. For example, do you really want the whole school to know that you enjoyed wearing that schoolgirl outfit? That you still have it hidden in your wardrobe? Or that you also stole MY VICTORIAN COSTUME and fondled someone that _wasn't _Alfred in it? AND YOU DIDN'T EVEN LET ME WATCH, YOU WANKER!_

_I would tell you how I know all these things, but if you had any brains; you'd be able to work it out. So you probably never will, which is most convenient. Anyway, goodbye you twat, and you'd better do as I say or all this will be on the school notice board tomorrow. And you know, if you're too slow I might just tell everyone anyway because I'm a badass pirate motherfucker._

_Have a nice life,_

_Arthur._

"So what do you think?" asked Arthur, a hint of pride in his voice. Alfred decided to choose his words carefully.

"It's very… Unique?" he said eventually, "And a little passive-aggressive."

"Only passive aggressive?" Arthur exclaimed in dismay, "I clearly didn't make my letter clear enough!" He reached for the pen again, but Alfred stopped him.

"I think it's fine the way it is," he said slowly pushing his boyfriend's hand away, "Let's just go and slip it under their door before he wakes up…"

"But-"

"Come on, Artie," begged Alfred, "I just want to finish this already." He gazed into the shorter boys eyes.

"…"

"I'll make you lots of tea~"

"Why do you know my weakness!?" Arthur snapped, "… Okay, fine."

* * *

"Dun dundundun DUN du-"

"Don't even think about it," snapped Arthur, pushing the paper under the 'Gateway of Love', as the sign proclaimed, "Haven't you noticed that whenever you start humming something, we get hopelessly lost?"

"…"

"Yes," said Arthur, turning away from Francis' door, "Now, where's the cuppa you promised me?"

"Um, Artie…" Arthur turned and sighed.

"What is it, wanker?"

"Err… How did we get to this dorm again?"

"I hate you!"

* * *

Meanwhile, Francis Bonnefoy was dreaming happily about something-we-would-all-rather-not-know, his nose gently trickling blood as he snored quietly. Not hearing the sliding of the paper underneath his door, he rolled over again in his sleep and buried his face in the pillow, ruffling his blonde hair into an untidy mess. The sounds of his classmates' argument didn't penetrate his consciousness… However the alarm clock he had forgotten to turn off for the weekend certainly did.

_Wake up wake up it's a beautiful morning~ Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh! Oh!_

Francis sat up bolt upright, clutching his chest. Because according to the radio, every morning should begin with a heart attack. "Mon Dieu," he said, wiping his forehead, "It must be too early for a Saturday…" He rubbed his eyes and swung his legs out of bed, yawning widely. "Oh well, at least this way I won't miss breakfast."

Having emerged from the bathroom fully clothed and with his hair neatly groomed, gelled, re-groomed and fully admired in all its glory, Francis was about to leave when his eyes caught sight of the two pieces of paper lying on the floor. One was the letter regarding the school play, which caused him to chuckle slightly – "It certainly was quite the spectacle~" – while the other was-

"What is this?!" shrieked Francis, holding the paper closer to his face, "What?!" he glared at the door to his room;

"Childhood friends are the _worst_."

* * *

"Wow, I can't believe you were really that stupid," grinned Gilbert, draping an arm around his friend's neck and laughing obnoxiously, "I don't think I'll be helping you if you're going to be that unawesome and slip up!" Francis glared.

"What is that supposed to mean, mon ami? Everyone makes mistakes!" Gilbert yawned.

"You aren't getting it, are you?" he said, waving his hand as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "I won't be helping you because you don't need to do it."

"…?" was the blank reply he received from his two best friends.

"Am I really going to have to explain this to you?" Gilbert sighed, "Fine. We just go and tell a teacher." Antonio laughed.

"Really? Amigo, that is very unlike you! Or us…" He stopped when he realised the other boy was being serious.

"Well usually the awesome me prefers to sort these things out the cool way," the Prussian said, "But don't you want to see those two get majorly in trouble with my terrifying relative?"

"But Gil," said Antonio, "They can just tell him the truth about what _we_ did-"

"Pff," said Gilbert, "Do you really think Gramps will believe them? He hates their guts, he'd jump at any excuse to get them into trouble!" Francis cocked his head.

"That is true…" he said slowly, "But-"

"There's no room for buts!" Gilbert interrupted, "We need to go, now! The last thing we want is people seeing us sorting things like this out the way the rules say we should. That would be most unawesome!"

* * *

"Hey, Gramps!" Gilbert banged on the door to Mr. Beilschmidt's room, "Gramps! Wake up!" The door opened, and an angry German poked his head through the gap, his hair more resembling a scarecrow than a person.

"What is it you want?" he growled, "This had better be good."

"Yes, Gramps," said Gilbert, giving a thumbs up to his friends, "Very, awesomely good! Can we come in?" He tried to pull the door open further, but the teacher stopped him.

"Nein," he said firmly, glancing backwards over his shoulder into the other room, "That… Would not be a good idea. Let us go to my office." Gilbert's eyes widened.

"Who's in there, Gramps?"

"No one of your concern," said Mr. Beilschmidt quickly, "Now wait here and I will meet you in a minute. And this had better be something good." His gaze narrowed and he disappeared into the room. Curious, Antonio leaned towards the door, only for a large axe to hit the wall directly next to his head. "What did I tell you?" came the teacher's voice, "Stay out. There is nothing to see here. Nothing and no one. No one."

"Even if we told you we wanted to talk to you about the play and it was really super important?"

"My answer is the same." The teacher eventually emerged, carefully closing and locking the door behind him.

"Don't you trust us?" asked Gilbert in fake mourning.

"Not in the slightest."

* * *

"… So as you can see," said Francis, putting a hand to his chest and looking wounded, "Those two _barbarians_ are clearly invading my personal freedom and exposing my privacy! Not to mention they cruelly sabotaged our beloved school production and destroyed months of our hard work-"

"Quiet, Bonnefoy," said Mr. Beilschmidt, peering closer at the letter Francis had showed him, "… Whose handwriting is this?" Francis took it back and looked.

"Arthur's, I think, Sir," he said. The teacher frowned, and then dug into his desk. Pulling out another piece of paper, little more than a scrap by now, he held it next to the letter, pointing to a sentence scribbled at the bottom.

"And this?" he asked, "Who wrote this sentence?"

_P.S. Sorry about those three jerks._

Francis peered at it, trying to make out the letters through the wear. He nodded.

"I would say it was Arthur again. Why?" Mr. Beilschmidt's frown deepened, and a terrifying look passed over his face. "You are dismissed," he said to the three standing in front of him, "Rest assured, this issue will be solved…"

"So…" said Gilbert to his friends, as they walked towards the hall for a late breakfast, "On a scale of one to Toni's-boyfriend-last-night… How screwed are they?"

* * *

Arthur and Alfred walked out of the breakfast hall, Alfred with several bacon sandwiches smuggled inside his jacket. As they walked back towards their room, he bit into one, savouring the delicious smell and taste while Arthur rolled his eyes and looked out of the large window. He sighed and sat down on the windowsill, swinging his legs backwards and forwards. His hand was on the cover of 'Hamlet', safely stowed in his bag, when the intercom crackled to life in the hallway.

"_Attention, Attention! Would Alfred Jones and Arthur Kirkland please report to Mr. Beilschmidt's office immediately? Alfred Jones and Arthur Kirkland to Mr. Beilschmidt's office _immediately_."_

"Well this sounds encouraging," said Arthur sarcastically, swallowing hard and hopping off the windowsill. Alfred put down his third sandwich and shrugged.

"Can't tell until we get there…" Arthur looked at him.

"No," he snapped, "We need to know if it would be better to go, or to run away and become fugitives!"

"Isn't that a bit of an overreaction?" he asked, "I'm beginning to feel like the only voice of reason in this place these days." Arthur looked around.

"Maybe you are," he said flatly, "But that doesn't change that I'd rather leave this place of my own accord, than be thrown out unceremoniously in shame in front of all my peers, lost and alone to wander the world as a vagrant, an outsider to the homely comforts of the globe, solitary and forever on the road like a wagon that never reached its destination. To seize the day and leave myself would instead portray my defiance to this cruel world that we live in and to go on to travel, yes, but to travel always in the glow of the sun and light of the moon, to wander, but never wander alone, for I will always have my spirit and my soul to guide me through whatever I may face-"

"Okay, you are not getting all dramatic on me," scowled Alfred, "We're going to his office and we're going _now_."

* * *

"Hey Arthur, could you recommend some porn to me? Francis' blog told me you were quite the expert!" catcalled Gilbert as the pair neared Mr. Beilschmidt's office. The entire room seemed to resonate with the underlying background of doom, and Alfred would not have been surprised to see a skeleton above the doorway. Okay, maybe a little bit. Wait-

"ARTIE A SKELETON!" Alfred dived behind his boyfriend and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, peering over at the large… poster. Arthur sighed and raised a think eyebrow.

"It's an anatomy drawing, twat," he said, pushing the taller boy's arms off him, "Since this was your idea, I think you can face the consequences."

"How was this my fault- You know what, we've been arguing too much lately," said Alfred, deciding to drop it, "We need to get away soon." Arthur nodded in agreement, his hand curling around his boyfriend's.

"Yeah…" he said softly, "We've both been a little bitchy recently."

"Oh, both of us?!" exclaimed Alfred, "From what I remember, the large majority of this is and was you! Leave _me _out of your ranting and bitching and whatever-else-you're-going-to-foist-on-me!"

"We really do need a holiday…"

"Ah, boys…" the door opened and Mr. Beilschmidt looked out, "So nice to see you could join me on this fine morning. Please… Do come in." His voice sounded like that of a seasoned executioner. The door slammed with a strange finality, as the duo stepped into the office.

"So, Sir…" said Alfred, "W-Why did you want to see us? It's not like we've done anything, right?" He laughed nervously, but was met by the mother of all death glares and the sound of a sword being unsheathed.

"Now," said the teacher, "It isn't exactly school policy to threaten students with medieval weapons, but I judged, as a senior member of staff, that this method was the best to be applied in this situation and was, in my opinion, unavoidable. Got it?" He held the weapon in his right hand and walked around the desk. Arthur and Alfred nodded mutely. The German sighed. "Good. Now I have the disclaimer out of the way…" He thrust the sword forwards to within an inch of their faces. "I am going to relay to you a series of statements, which you are going to admit or deny. There will be no protests, unless either of you wish to get close and personal with Excalibur Mark 2. Is that clear?"

"…"

"ANSWER ME."

"Y-yes Sir," the two boys stammered, slightly (to use an understatement) afraid. Mr. Beilschmidt retreated slightly, then began to speak.

"You wrecked the school play."

"… Yes." Well, what other option was there, really? Confessing sounded like a much better option than impalement, in Alfred's survivalist mindset.

"You tried to blackmail Francis Bonnefoy."

"Yes." Arthur hoped Alfred wouldn't be _too_ mad at him for getting him caught up in all of this.

"You faked a love letter which resulted in Mr. Vargas and I dating?"

"Um… What?" Mr. Beilschmidt opened his desk drawer and pulled out a familiar piece of paper that had caused them quite a bit of grief. "Is this familiar to you?"

"Err…" The guilty expressions on the two boys' faces told the painfully obvious truth. There was silence in the room for a moment. The only thing that could be heard was the ticking of the clock, and the fragile beating of their hearts.

"You know what…" Mr. Beilschmidt sighed and put lowered the sword, "You know what… Just go." Arthur and Alfred sat upright.

"Um, Sir-" Arthur began. The teacher looked up and glared.

"GO, I said. Go quickly before I change my mind and expel you both." Moving quietly, the two boys slowly got up from their seats, edging towards the door before turning and running for their lives.

* * *

A/N Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed and please review :3


	14. Period 13: Row, Row, Row Your Boat

A/N Hello! No prizes for guessing what this chapter is about XD. I've been waiting for an excuse to post this for weeks…

Thanks to OutToGarden, Alba The Great, indiechiquegeek and Sho-chan669 for reviewing, and everyone who followed/favourited!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything mentioned here and I never will *cries*

* * *

"Miss, Miss!" Alfred yelled after the school nurse. She turned and fixed him with an icy glare.

"And just what have you decided to waste my time with today?" she glowered.

"It's Artie, Miss, he fell down some steps and I think he broke his ankle." The nurse's face changed in an instant.

"I'll call an ambulance immediately!" As she bustled off down the hallway to the reception. Alfred watched after her with an air of disbelief.

"W-… Why do you hate me…?" Sighing, Alfred pulled out his own phone and dialled his boyfriend's number.

"Hello? This is Arthur," came an irritated voice.

"It worked like a charm," Alfred grinned, "Operation Escape-From-School is go!"

* * *

The ambulance sailed down the road towards the hospital, with Arthur and Alfred in the back of it, Alfred trying not to make it too obvious he was quite enjoying being in a vehicle with a siren. Arthur was lying on the table with his foot being carefully examined by one of the paramedics, who scratched her head and frowned as she examined the 'injury'. The other two stood at the side, looking oddly disappointed that they were missing an opportunity to use some of the horrifying-looking medical instruments strapped to the walls. One, a young man looking no older than twenty-five, was stroking a hacksaw longingly, while the other, a slightly older woman, appeared to be whispering consolidations to a chest of hideously long needles. The sharp points made Arthur's face pale every time he so much as looked at them.

"Sir, are you sure this is the right ankle?" the lead paramedic asked, feeling around the bone, "There doesn't appear to be any problem with this one…" Arthur fixed her with a blank stare.

"What would be wrong with it…?" he asked slowly. She looked at him.

"I was informed that a student had fallen down some steps…"

"Hm?" said Alfred in a puzzled voice, "Yeah, but I don't think it was one of us." The paramedic stopped.

"So… You're not Arthur Kirkland and Alfred Jones?" she asked.

"Ah, no, sorry," said Arthur, scratching the back of his head, "We just thought this was an, um, bus and, er, thought we'd get on. We're, ah, travelling you see…"

"… You have got to be kidding me," said the paramedic shortly. She picked up her radio and connected to the driver; "Yeah, John… We have the wrong kids, apparently. Turn around." As the ambulance screeched comically to a halt and executed a sharp U-turn, causing all five in the back to grab onto something to keep their balance before setting off again at break-neck speed, she turned back to them and fixed them with a piercing stare.

"So how did you end up at a school?"

"We were lost," explained Alfred.

"How come you're wearing school uniform?" the paramedic enquired, raising an eyebrow.

"They gave us new clothes because our old ones were ruined," Arthur said quickly, "They're lovely people! Especially…" he trailed off, "Actually, scratch that." Alfred opened his eyes wide and gestured wildly to his boyfriend to shut up, but it appeared that the paramedic had believed them. If dubiously.

"Oh yeah," Alfred added quickly, "And we've got all out things in our pockets and stuff, so we really don't need to go all the way back there."

"Are you sure?" the paramedic asked, her gaze terrifying both boys.

"Yes," said Arthur rapidly, "Completely, 100% yes! In fact, you should really let us off right now before we get anywhere near so we don't risk abusing their hospitality again!" Alfred nodded along and tried not to look scared.

"Hm…" the paramedic frowned, before picking up her radio. Giving the pair a mistrustful look, she picked up the radio again. "John, stop the vehicle."

* * *

"How the hell did that work?!" Alfred asked, as they waved the ambulance off, back to the school. Arthur linked his arm through his boyfriend's.

"I don't know, but we need to get away from the road before they come back looking for us…" He pointed towards a small building next to the lake. "We could go over there." Alfred squinted.

"Looks like a kind of shop to me..." he said, "We could buy something and have fun with it!" Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"Honey, I thought we came here to do something _different_ to what we usually did…" Alfred deadpanned.

"You know very well that's not what I was implying," he stated. Arthur only grinned and pulled them across the unkempt grass towards the hut. The tall strands brushed at their legs and the mountains loomed in the distance beyond the lake. The afternoon sunshine shone brightly across the water, almost dazzling Alfred when he looked at it too long. They had certainly chosen the right place to get off the ambulance.

Reaching the building, Arthur noticed a sign, perched above a small wooden door. There was a tiny, unusually high window on one side, and a bench set into the wall on the other. The whole hut could only be slightly taller than them. Entirely made of wood (or so it would appear), the building ended abruptly after around five metres, to reveal what seemed to be an entire fleet of tiny, round-bottomed boats, in a strange variety of bizarre shapes. There were large, flat circles which were so shallow they looked more like giant barrel lids than ships, and a small pirate galleon with a flat bottom, even with a small skull and crossbones flag. To the left were tiny boats which looked for too small for two, despite the sign beside them claiming otherwise, and right at the far end were 'Boats for Three!', also a little on the cramped side, also with the same flat bottom. In fact, all of the boats looked suspiciously flat on the underside, some to the point of what would be unstable.

Arthur looked back up at the sign.

_Yaoitropolis Lake Boat Hire_

"Great!" said Alfred enthusiastically, "We can go sailing! This is gonna be great~" Then, Arthur remembered something slightly important.

"Um, Alfred…" he said, "We don't have any money." Alfred shook his head.

"That's just what you think! The hero thought of everything!" he dug into his pockets confidently… But slowly his face began to fall. Arthur watched sceptically, as he pulled of his jacket and shook it thoroughly, turning it upside down and shaking out several McDonalds coupons, a few empty cans of coke, his phone, an entire Playstation ("Oh, I was wondering where I put that…"), a few condoms and a pack of crisps… But no money.

"Well we could try and trade the Playstation in…" said Arthur thoughtfully.

"No way in hell." Alfred picked it up and hugged it to his chest, "We'll just have to get one another way…"

"Use your hero-ness or something…" said Arthur, sitting down on the bench and crossing his legs.

"I have a feeling you don't have a lot of faith in me," Alfred deadpanned.

"Why would you think that?" asked the other blonde sarcastically. Alfred stood on his tip toes and looked through the small widow beside the door.

"I don't see anyone there…" he said.

"Maybe you could just go round and get one." Arthur shrugged, "You're strong enough to carry one."

"No!" said Alfred, "That's stealing!"

"We're going to put it back afterwards…" said Arthur matter-of-factly, "So what's the harm in borrowing it for a little while? Anyway, they wouldn't have kept the entire thing wide open if they really cared about security."

"Maybe they can't afford it," scowled Alfred, "And we're destroying their business by waltzing onto their property and taking whatever we want! I don't want to be involved with something like that…" Arthur sighed and pointed to another sign, a little underneath the name of the shop:

_Hire free for all couples. Have a nice day and remember to take pictures ;)_

Alfred's eye twitched. Arthur smiled smugly. Wordlessly, Alfred walked away from his boyfriend towards the boats. Ignoring the galleon out of spite, he grabbed the one he thought Arthur would hate most and hurried back. Well, he attempted to hurry. It may not have looked very heavy from where the two were stood before, but face-to-face it was not only a lot larger than he had thought, but also weighed at least three times more. Also, although not secured to anything, it was stuck so firmly in a pile of dried mud that it took him five hefty tugs just to get it loose. Sweat trickling down his brow, he attempted to roll the circular boat along the ground, only to find that its jagged edge made doing so almost impossible.

Sighing, he flipped it on its side and struggled back towards his boyfriend, the large flat boat under his arm. He dropped it on the ground next to the bench where he had left Arthur and gasped for breath. The shorter boy walked out of the hut, pulling something on wheels behind him and smiling sweetly.

"What are you looking so happy about?" Alfred asked tiredly.

"Ta-da!" smirked Arthur triumphantly, showing his boyfriend a large trolley, that was easily big enough to carry the boat Alfred was currently hauling by hand.

"You have got to be kidding me," the taller boy snapped.

* * *

"And so begins the next stage of our great quest!" Alfred proclaimed, his good mood returning as he pushed the trolley carrying the boat to the edge of the lake, having spotted a small pier. He stopped when he saw yet another sign.

_Launching Bay_

_Water temperature today: 25__o__C/77__o__F_

"Huh?" said Arthur, "That's far, far too warm for a lake…" Alfred leaned over the pier and tested the water with his hand. He shrugged.

"It is quite warm," he said, "Who knows…" Arthur took this moment to look incredulously at his boyfriend's choice of boat.

"Of all the ones you could've picked, love…" he said, raising his eyebrow. Alfred grinned and walked back over to sling an arm around Arthur.

"Aaw, I just knew you'd love it so much," he said, pecking his cheek, "Now come on, let's try to figure out how to launch this thing." Arthur's eyes opened wide.

"Um, how exactly do we do that?!" Alfred was about to say something, before he realised he also had no idea. His black expression echoed Arthur's.

"We could, like, push it off the pier and then dive onto it?" he suggested, scratching his head and nudging the boat with his foot, "It'd take two of us to get it in smoothly."

"Heavens no," said Arthur, "That thing looks unstable enough as it is. We'll have trouble keeping it from capsizing-" He stopped. "Actually, maybe if we just spread our bodies out really flat…"

Two minutes later, with the boat floating in the water just below the pier, Arthur and Alfred looked down. Fifty centimetres suddenly looked like quite a long way.

"You know…" said Arthur, edging backwards, "Maybe this wasn't the _best_ idea we ever had."

"You first," said Alfred, backing away even further and pushing his boyfriend in front of him.

"Oh, now it's alright to be unheroic," snapped Arthur, "Alright then!"

"I AM MERELY HELPING YOU TO GROW IN CONFIDENCE AND BELIEVE IN YOURSELF. ENCOURAGING YOUR PERSONAL DEVELOPMENT IS THE MOST HEROIC THING A PERSON CAN DO!" yelled Alfred from the safety of the other end of the pier. Arthur turned to glare at the taller boy, before bracing himself for the jump. It wasn't that far away, right? Not too far- OH SHIT IT'S DRIFTING AWAY-

Arthur leapt from the pier and, after a brief moment of embarrassing flailing in the air (he could swear he heard Alfred laugh), heavily landed on the boat, which tipped dangerously to the side. Panicking, Arthur scrambled to the centre of the circle and grabbed hold of the small stump situated there. With the weight more or less around the middle the vessel steadied again. Seriously, thought Arthur in exasperation, who designed this thing?

"Um, Artie…" came a voice from above him. Arthur looked up and back to the pier, which was now looking rather far away… His momentum must have carried the boat. Quite some distance, actually, which was a problem because unless Alfred transformed into kangaroo (Arthur's hand rested on the wand in his pocket, before he thought better of it), he was now far out of jumping range.

"There is no way I'm swimming to get over to you," Alfred said flatly, when Arthur gestured to the water, "Not unless you're gonna swim back to me."

"I can't swim," Arthur replied flatly, "That's unfair. Also, you told me to go first!" He spread his hands as far as he could, but they couldn't reach the water. "And I can't paddle it back because I can't get to either side without toppling it!" Alfred thought for a moment.

"Is there a motor anywhere?" he called over. Arthur fixed him with a blank stare.

"This is a rowing boat!" he called back, "Why the bloody hell would there be a-"

"Just look!" Alfred insisted. Feeling around on the small stump he had grabbed hold of, Arthur found a small lever, and beside it, a string. He pushed the lever to the side experimentally, and had to flatten himself to the deck again as the boat lurched dangerously to the left.

"I appear to have found the rudder," he reported back to his boyfriend, who was watching with a look of amusement and gave him a small nod. Now was time for the string. He pulled it, and a deafening roar came from the underside of the boat, causing it to speed off in the direction Arthur had just pointed the rudder to. He pulled it again, and again, until the motor rattled into life.

"Great!" yelled Alfred from the shoreline, waving to get the other boy's attention, "Now just steer it towards me!"

"I'm trying!" came the reply, "But it's harder than it loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooks-!" the boat went speeding past Alfred and bounced off a small outcrop on the bank of the lake. Alfred couldn't stop himself, and burst out laughing, only earning him the middle finger when Arthur went speeding back past him again, again completely missing him. Several rounds of this later, Arthur finally managed to bring the boat to a stop, and Alfred, still amused, stepped on, only to immediately face-dive so as to avoid tipping them both into the water.

"Psh, rowing boat my ass."

"Shut it, wanker."

With them sitting on opposite sides, one could power the motor and one could steer while avoiding capsizing. Alfred sat happily reflecting on the embarrassment, occasionally snickering, while Arthur focused all his attention on the rudder, sending his boyfriend the odd death glare every now and then.

The weirdest thing was that it was a comfortable silence.

* * *

"Aah, this is great," said Alfred, stretching out on the deck and looking to where Arthur was proudly steering, his eyes still focused with determination on the task at hand. If only this wasn't a tiny boat, he might not look like a complete idiot… But a cute one. Alfred lazily admired the way the evening sun reflected off the top of his head, making it glow in the gorgeous way he loved, and the way his shirt, slightly damp from repeatedly crawling across the deck, stuck to the outline of his body and highlighted his small waist, the way those trousers really looked far too unworthy to be on his legs and should immediately be removed-

"Hey, what are you looking at?!" Arthur snapped, looking up.

"You should know," Alfred winked. Arthur scowled and marched over, and the next thing Alfred remembered was the shock of water enveloping him. He easily fought to the surface, spluttering for air, and swam back towards the boat with his glasses held in one hand. He leant over the side of the boat and glared at his boyfriend.

"Hey, what was that for?" he scowled, reaching out to grab Arthur's arm, "I hadn't even gotten onto the dirty talk bit!" The smaller boy quickly backed away towards the other side of the boat.

"Oh no you don't," he said rapidly, "I can't do this in the middle of a lake! Or swim! You are not pulling me in as well." Alfred smiled.

"Aaw, relax, babe! The hero won't let you drown~"

"I don't care," said Arthur flatly, "There is no way I am getting in." He shuffled quickly to the other side of the boat, although he also grasped hold of the lifejacket cautiously.

"Is that so?" asked Alfred, a devilish look appearing in his blue eyes. He reached down to grab the underside of the small boat, pulling it upwards and tipping Arthur towards him. Arthur yelled as he slid down the deck and into the water, using the jacket as a float and clinging onto it for dear life.

"What… the bloody hell… git…?" he gasped out, as he grabbed hold of Alfred's arms, one of which was still holding the boat, "Let me back on right now! I could drown!" Alfred smirked and swam over to him.

"Don't worry, that's not going to happen!" he smiled brightly. Arthur looked at him disbelievingly.

"_I can't fucking swim_."

"I know," said Alfred flatly, "Now try reaching down with your feet."

"Are you mad?!" protested Arthur, "Are you _trying_ to kill me?"

"Arthur…" said Alfred, patting the water marker they had just sailed past, "This part of the lake is like, less than five feet deep…" Arthur's face paled.

"What?! I'm going to drown! Get me the fuck out!" He made a feeble kick with his legs. Alfred sighed.

"Arthur, we're both taller than that." Arthur's face went blank in a second. Alfred put a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder. "Now put your feet down…"

"…" Arthur's feet hit the bottom of the lake. With his entire head comfortably above the water.

"See?" said Alfred, standing up as well.

"… I knew that," said the shorter boy unconvincingly. He looked across at the water marker he had chosen to ignore.

_1.5 metres _

"Fuck you," Arthur snapped at his boyfriend, "Fuck. You."

"Well that was what I was going to do before you pushed me in!" snapped Alfred, pouting.

"What, on _that_ boat?!" Arthur raised an eyebrow, "Love, that just wouldn't work."

"It would! It could be, like, extreme sex!"

"… No," said Arthur flatly, before adding quietly, "Next year. When we have a decent boat. And a video camera."

"So until then," grinned Alfred, having heard every word, "Why don't we go swimming?"

"HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU I CAN'T?!"

"Relax, babe," said Alfred, "All you have to do is make arm movements and pretend…" Arthur obliged, and after Alfred burst out laughing again, splashed the taller boy in the face. Laughing, he used his hands to create a wave to get water on Arthur too… Well, more than was already on the both of them and their soaking wet clothes. Arthur pulled off his jacket and used it as a scoop to gather a huge amount of lakewater.

"This is war."

To this day, both Arthur and Alfred insist that they won.

* * *

After the inconclusive finale of the waterfight, Arthur leaned back and floated on top of the lake, gazing up at the stars and smiling softly. Sleepily. Alfred tugged on his hand.

"Come on babe, we should probably get out now."

"But I'm too sleepy to move…" mumbled Arthur, kicking one leg softly to keep afloat and squeezing his boyfriend's hand. Alfred put his own feet down and began to pull them both slowly into shallower water.

"Hm… but I don't want to get out…" Arthur protested weakly, yawning, before starting when his dangling feet scraped the bottom and struggling quickly to his feet. He leaned into his boyfriend and closed his eyes.

"Come on," Alfred coaxed, running his fingers through the shorter boy's hair, "This way…" He squinted into the distance, "There's a light over there, maybe that's the hut." Arthur made some indiscernible noise and snuggled deeper into Alfred's soaking wet jacket. Shrugging, the taller boy tightened his grip on Arthur's shoulder and half-waded, half-dragged Arthur to the shoreline.

Alfred slipped his glasses back on to see not the hut, but a small fire was cracking innocently in the middle of the beach, the little flames dancing and lighting up the surrounding area where a few pointy sticks and two stools were placed. The clearing was surrounded by tall, dense trees with no gaps between them, which stretched for as far as the eye could see until the line met the edge of the lake again, some half a kilometre away. Even in the twilight, they glowed an almost jade shade of green, complementing the now dark blue colour of the water. It was all very picturesque. Although confused for a moment, Alfred soon spotted something that made him not care.

"Hey, sweet!" he said loudly, causing Arthur to jolt upwards with a start, "Marshmallows!" He left Arthur's side and ran to the large bag.

"Huh…" Arthur yawned widely, "How did all this get here?" Alfred shrugged.

"Who cares? Look, it says they're for us…" he pointed at a large 'For the happy couple' scrawled into the sand. Arthur looked his boyfriend in the eye.

"'Happy couple'?" he asked, "Do you really, _really_ think that-"

"Oh stop it," said Alfred playfully, squeezing Arthur closer and picking up the bag. He tore it open and pulled several out. Grabbing one of the sticks, he impaled the marshmallow and held it over the fire, licking his lips as it slowly toasted. Reluctantly, Arthur did the same, piercing the sweet and holding it over the flames-

**BOOM**

Arthur fell backwards onto the sand, his blackened hair sticking up in every direction and charcoal sticking to his shoulders. He brushed it off, slightly dazed, as Alfred stared down at him. Alfred, who had only been standing an arm's length away from him. Arthur scowled and pushed himself to his feet. His boyfriend took the blackened lump of carbon that had once been a roasting marshmallow and carefully placed it on the ground, taking several steps away, then slowly picking up another.

"Um, babe," he said quietly, "M-Maybe I should roast the marshmallows…" Arthur examined the wood on the ground.

"Wait…" he picked it up and examined it closely, "That's my wand! I was wondering why my pocket felt lighter…" Shrugging, he pushed it into his pocket. "Can you pass me a stick?"

"…" Alfred was too busy shaking his head rapidly and trembling with fear to reply. Arthur scowled.

"Fine," he said, sitting down on one of the stools, "Have it your way. Roast me a treat if you so insist!"

"Sorry, Artie, but it's hard for you to look scornful when you have black smudges on your nose…" Alfred replied, grinning and spearing another marshmallow. Arthur raised a hand to his face.

"What?! Where?" Alfred smiled, put down the sticks for a moment and walked over to his boyfriend. Using one hand to stop Arthur moving his head out of the way, he used his fingers to brush the soot off. Arthur wrinkled his nose – "Alfie, that tickles!" – and Alfred couldn't help but smile and kiss his cheek. The shorter blonde blushed and nuzzled his head into the crook of the other boy's neck, putting an arm around his torso. They sat like that for a long minute, before Arthur interrupted.

"… Where are my damn marshmallows?" Arthur asked, pushing at the taller boy's arm. Alfred laughed.

"You really know how to make a moment, don't you?" he joked, standing up and walking over to the fire, "Actually, they were about done so here you go." He ate with one hand, using the other to wrap around Arthur's waist and stroke his side, ignoring the icy stare he was receiving in return. But several marshmallows later, Arthur was sleepily lolling his head on his boyfriend's shoulder, resuming the almost trance-like state he had been before. Several more, and Alfred was feeling the same way. It only took a few well-timed rolls to get them both on the sand, and only a few passing minutes before they were both sleeping like logs.

Meanwhile, from the trees, a small _click_, and a white flash, illuminated the area for a fraction of a second.

* * *

"Nnnh…" was Alfred's first reaction to the harsh glare of the sun on his body. He could still feel Arthur's weight in his arms, and he looked down at the sleeping face blurrily for a second before clumsily adjusting his glasses, remembering he had forgotten to take them off before falling asleep. He looked around him, noticing that not only was the fire gone, the boat was no longer floating on the lake and… their shirts were gone? Alfred's eyes darted around, before spotting his jacket and t-shirt only a short distance away, next to Arthur's. As he slowly eased himself out of Arthur's embrace to retrieve them, the shorter boy mumbled something and rolled over in his sleep. Alfred smiled and stroked his hair, before walking over to their belongings and bringing them back.

"What've you got?" Arthur asked groggily, as he too awoke. Alfred held up their clothes as an explanation, resisting the urge to chortle at his boyfriend's confused expression. They were still slightly damp, and with a jolt of panic Alfred remembered that some of his belongings were… Less that waterproof. Ripping open his jacket pocket and emptying it onto the sand (another thing he would later regret, as in two weeks time he would have to clean that Playstation out… For the seventh time), he rooted through the contents before sighing in relief.

"Hey, it must've all stayed dry in there!" he exclaimed happily, checking the screen before his face fell like a stone. Meanwhile, Arthur was pulling out his own sodden phone and attempting to turn it on.

"Yes, my own not so much I would believe," he said.

"Oh crap…" Alfred looked down at his phone in horror.

"What is it?" Arthur asked, leaning over his shoulder and wrapping his own arms around his boyfriend's chest. The American flashed the screen in the shorter blonde's direction.

_801 missed calls from: Hetalia Academy_

Both boys gulped simultaneously. They looked at each other, before Alfred said what they were both thinking;

"We're in trouble, aren't we?"

* * *

A/N Just for the record, I do not condone pretending to break your ankle to get out of school XD. Hope you enjoyed, and please leave a review!


	15. Period 14: Lion, Dots, & Threats, Oh My!

A/N So here I am on holiday with a dubious internet connection… Hopefully you are reading this on Monday!

Thanks to Alba The Great for reviewing and everyone who followed/favourited ^_^

Disclaimer: I own nothing mentioned in this chapter.

* * *

"… I can't believe you would do such a thing… Disgrace to the school… What will your parents say? … I MISSED 'CHOPIN: A BIOGRAPHY' TO COME AND GET YOU TWO… Awful, simply awful… Wait until the head teacher hears about this… HOW DARE YOU CUT ME OFF AT THE JUNCTION YOU FILTHY PEASANT?!"

Arthur and Alfred sunk a little lower in their seats, as Mr. Edelstein drove back towards the school. Arthur looked longingly back to the lake, craning his neck to get a final glimpse of the mountains fading into the distance.

"Don't even think about it," said the teacher, "The childlock is on…"

* * *

"Follow me."

Trying not to look scared, Alfred tightened his grip on his boyfriend's hand as they walked towards a now all too familiar office. Just to make their situation worse, it was break time and all the other students were there to watch their humiliation. The taller boy gritted his teeth at the barrage of taunts and remarks that followed them;

"So nice of you to join us again, Eyebrows and Burger Face~"

"Kesese, I'll start planning your funeral now."

"HAY GUYS HOW DID YOUR HOLIDAY GO DID YOU TAKE NICE PICTURES?!"

"Amigo, you caught the sun slightly…" Arthur caught his bright red reflection in the window and shot Antonio a glare.

"It would appear this could be the last time we see Alfred-san and Arthur-san…"

"Thanks, Kiku," said Alfred through gritted teeth, "I feel so much better now."

"You're welcome, Alfred-san," said the Japanese boy, bowing before quickly turning and hurrying away, as if he had something terribly important to do.

* * *

"Come in!" came a happy voice from the other side of the office door. Mr. Edelstein pushed the reluctant pair forwards.

"Go on boys," he said, "I have an important email to send… I probably _won't_ see you later." He turned and walked off down the corridor.

"I said come in!" Mr. Vargas called again, as the pair stood gazing in disbelief (and horror) after their music teacher. As if preparing themselves for a plunge into icy water, Arthur and Alfred steeled themselves for the worst before stepping over the threshold for what, to them, would seem to be the last time. The head teacher was sitting behind his desk. Beside him was a large, formidable lion sculpture. At least, until the 'sculpture' began to move.

_Thud_

Alfred's body hit the carpeted floor face down. Arthur peered down at the boy.

"Ah, Sir, I think he's fainted," he said, blinking. In response, the lion lazily stood up and wandered over, its tail swishing from side to side. Reaching the fallen boy, it opened its jaws wide and positioned itself over Alfred's head.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" Two milliseconds later, Alfred was back on his feet and hiding behind his boyfriend.

"Works every time!" said the professor happily, "Please do take a seat." Arthur and Alfred sat down, Alfred still receiving disappointed looks from the large feline that was now sat imposingly by the exit. It almost looked as if it was stopping them from escaping…

"Firstly," he said, with an unusually cheerful tone for someone on the verge of expelling two pupils, "May I just say that I do not condone what you have done in any way and that you two should be completely and utterly ashamed of yourselves."

"Yes Sir…" said Arthur and Alfred, looking down.

"Secondly…" the professor leaned across his desk, his eyes sparkling, "How did it go? I'm thinking of visiting that place next summer and I want an opinion!"

Alfred really should've been expecting something like that.

"Um…" said Arthur, his eyes opening wide, "We, er… Went on the lake and used a boat! And Alfred pulled me in and it was awful and then we had a water fight _which I won_ by the way-"

"-Did not," Alfred interrupted, composing himself, "I totally beat you because you had to duck under the water three times and I didn't at all! And anyway you had an unfair advantage because my love for you meant that I couldn't bring myself to even face the possibility of you getting hurt!"

"ARE YOU SAYING I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU?!" Arthur was on the verge of slapping his boyfriend (a characteristic trademark of all their future arguments on the subject of that water fight), when the professor interrupted.

"I trust you had a good time swimming though…" Mr. Vargas said, raising his eyebrow.

"Yeah, it was really funny! He looked like a wet dog when he first started trying," Alfred laughed.

"No I didn't!" Arthur protested, "Any anyway, you looked worse after you ducked underwater. It was like the Kraken rising from the depths!"

"Well at least I didn't start talking in Cockney-"

"-IT WAS PIRATE SPEAK-"

"-Halfway through!"

"You even had the cheek to ask if I was okay afterwards," snapped Arthur, "Obviously I was!"

"You were crying because you thought you stood on a blobfish!"

"HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT FRESHWATER BLOBFISH DON'T EXIST?!"

"This reminds me of the time in the Coliseum when instead of fighting the lion, the two gladiators just argued with each other," the professor remarked airily.

"Really?" Alfred asked, leaning forwards, "What happened at the end?"

"Oh, they both got eaten," the head teacher replied chirpily.

"…"

"…"

"Even though we've all had a good laugh about it…" said Mr. Vargas, his voice suddenly becoming serious. Arthur and Alfred gulped. "I cannot allow two of my students to consistently get away with breaking school rules. Everyone else would start doing it too and then the school would live in anarchy!"

"Cool…" said Arthur under his breath, grinning slightly, "I'll get my sword." Alfred elbowed him in the ribs.

"Artie! We both know you wouldn't stand a chance against Toni's paintball gun…"

"Is that a challenge?" Arthur asked, gritting his teeth.

"-AND THEY STILL WON'T STOP COPULATING BEHIND THE BIKE SHEDS!" the teacher cried in anxiety, grabbing a fistful of his hair, "This school needs more discipline! So as a retribution for your crimes-"

"Um, sir," said Alfred hastily, "We weren't actually breaking the law-"

"… Yes but still," said the head teacher, "You both will endure the punishment of-"

_Ting_

A small light lit up on the professor's computer. His frown dissipated as he looked at the screen to be replaced with his usual smile.

"One moment, boys…" he turned the screen away from them to read the message. His face immediately paled, then smiled, then reeled in shock, while Arthur and Alfred sat there only _slightly_ confused. The teacher slowly turned back around to face them both.

"Um," he said, "Actually, I think that we're going to be able to let you off with a warning this time, sì?"

"Why?"Alfred asked.

"_Alfred!_" hissed Arthur, "_Don't knock it._"

"Because I value my life, okay?" the professor snapped.

"Who's threatening you?"

"_ALFRED_."

"None of your concern," said Mr. Vargas curtly, "But… A lot more makes sense now…" he frowned, "You may return to your classes. And before you go," Arthur, already halfway to the door at breakneck speed, turned with a look of terror on his face. The professor spoke; "Watch out for weird red dots…"

* * *

"Well that was a lucky save, wasn't it?" Arthur asked happily, as they walked back down the hall.

"No it wasn't, Artie," said Alfred seriously, "The person who sent that, set everything up, everything that happened yesterday and today! And I bet it's the same person that's been behind all the creepy cameras and things!"

"Alfred, you're imagining things…"said Arthur flatly, "What creepy cameras?"

"THE WEIRD RED DOTS!" Alfred exclaimed, "I SAW FLASHES WHEN I WAS IN THE SHOWER LAST WEEK! I FOUND A MICROPHONE IN MY JACKET YESTERDAY! SOMEONE INSTALLED A GIANT MIRROR ABOVE OUR BED-"

"Why yes, it was a great thing they finally got around to refitting the dorms, isn't it?"

"You don't understand! There are people manipulating our every move!"

"Let's just go to history," Arthur sighed, "We can address your paranoia afterwards."

"There is no paranoia," insisted Alfred, "This is real!"

"Whatever you say, love," said Arthur, clearly unconvinced.

* * *

"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Francis, as the pair walked into the lesson. He jumped out of his seat and pounced, tapping their heads with a slightly bemused expression, before grabbing their arms and starting to feel up their legs… At this point Arthur kicked him and he retreated, still with an expression of shock "And with all your limbs as well!" he said in astonishment, "Why were you not fed to the school lions?"

"I even had a gravestone picked out for them…" said Antonio, with a genuine hint of sadness in his voice.

"I even engraved 'Bastards' on it for you!" snapped Lovino, "In Times New Roman as well! Now all my hard work is wasted thanks to you…"

"We wanted something ironic, you know," chirped Feliciano, "But it would still look stylish and all, and we found a nice spot for it as well under the little apple tree that fell on your heads while you were making out underneath it that one time!"

"You mean the one that they had to replant after it was hacked down by a tall mysterious stranger?" asked Ivan innocently, "Yes, I remember…"

"I know right, those stilts are the best thing I ever bought!" cackled Gilbert jovially.

"You…" Alfred glared, before making a lunge for the Prussian's desk. Gilbert was on the verge of grabbing his hockey stick and bringing it down on the American's head when they were interrupted.

"Hehe! Now, now, boys, sit down…" Ms. Héderváry bustled into the room, "The only fighting between boys like you should be in the bedroom~" Alfred and Gilbert stopped immediately and backed away from each other as fast as their legs would carry them. The teacher laughed again, dumping her belongings on her desk at the front of the room before turning to the class.

"Um, Miss," said Arthur, "We sort of missed yesterday's lesson so is there anything we need to-"

"Don't worry, Arthur sweetie," she replied a little too happily, "I already know _everything_." The blonde instinctively shrank backwards and hastily retreated to his desk. Alfred sat down beside him and pulled him protectively close.

"I told you! Something creepy is going on here!"

"Ssh! Stop throwing accusations around already!"

"Aaw that's too cute~" cooed the teacher, gazing at the couple. Within a second, the two boys were at opposite ends of their desk. Arthur sank slightly underneath it, huddling up in the far right corner.

"Cute… I'm not… Cute… I'm scary and ferocious… Really intimidating…"

"Miss, I think you scared him," said Gilbert 'helpfully'.

"He'll be better in a minute," she replied, waving a hand dismissively, "Now! Who's interested in the Triple Entente?"

"Does this involve 'alliances', aru?" asked Yao tiredly.

"YES~!"

The entire class groaned and put their heads on the desks. Ms. Héderváry's 'maps' were… Original, to say the least.

"So, first France made an agreement with Russia, and then the UK! Who would like to come and illustrate this on the board? MAKE SURE TO GET THE FACES RIGHT THIS TIME."

**One incredibly awkward history lesson later… **

Francis and Ivan ran from the room before the bell rang, turning in opposite directions before sprinting to the comparative safety of their respective dorms. Gilbert and Antonio were taking snapshots of the illustration to re-traumatise their friend with later, laughing all the way. Natalia was glaring, her gaze fixated on the board while she mumbled something about '_Brother…_' Arthur was still sitting at his desk in a state of shock, Alfred similarly.

"Artiiiiiiiiie…" said Alfred, a look of betrayal on his face, "How could you?!"

"They never learn, do they?" Ms. Héderváry remarked to no one in particular, grinning widely before grabbing the board rubber and removing the chalk. The class were slowly and unsteadily getting to their feet and making their way to line up at the door, Natalia still glaring and Alfred having to be pulled away from the desk by Arthur. That was when Alfred spotted the red folder lying haphazardly on the edge of the desk, slightly open. And the photographs inside it.

"Artie, look!"

"No!" Arthur exclaimed, turning in the opposite direction to the board, "I do not want to be reminded of… _that_…"

"No, Artie look!" Alfred exclaimed, "Those are pictures of us…" He walked quickly over to the desk, and his hand was on the edge of the file when it was promptly snatched from under his nose.

"Oh, whoops!" she said, closing the folder quickly, "That's for my eyes only, boys and girls!" she winked and walked towards the door as the bell sounded. "Class dismissed."

* * *

"I can't believe she would do that!" snapped Alfred, outraged, as the pair prepared to leave the classroom, "That's an invasion of privacy! What if she's got everything on camera? Doing our homework? Getting lost on the way to math again?! Our _pure-and-innocent-cuddling-special-time_?"

"Alfred…" said Arthur, "You don't have any proof at all, stop accusing her already! What does it matter anyway? We got away with it didn't we-"

"No," Alfred snapped, grabbing his boyfriend's hand and pulling them back to the history classroom, "I need to find out so I can thank them, and then immediately punch them in the face for invading our privacy!"

"…"

* * *

Alfred checked the classroom, before pushing open the door and scurrying in, pulling a reluctant Arthur behind him. He went straight for the computer still sitting on the teacher's desk, pulling it up and staring at the password screen.

"Um, Artie…" he looked up sheepishly, "Any ideas?"

"How the hell would I know?" the shorter boy responded, sitting down next to him and looking down at the screen, "Did you not even think this through?"

"S-Shut up," said Alfred, turning to the screen, "Let's try, er… 'History'!"

**Password denied.**

"Were you expecting anything else?" Arthur asked.

"SHUT IT, TWERKING SCONE EATING PIRATE FETISHIST."

"…"

"Now let's try… 'Héderváry'!"

**Password denied.**

"Alfred-"

"How about 'creepiness'?"

**Password denied.**

"'I'm a stalker'?"

"Alfie-"

**Password denied.**

"'I INTERRUPT ALFRED'S CUDDLE TIME'?"

**Password denied.**

"'I LIKE TO WATCH'-"

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Arthur snapped, grabbing the keyboard, "This is so pointless we may as well type in buttfucking!"

**Password accepted.**

"…"

"…"

The screen cleared to be replaced with a desktop and toolbar, covered with several icons. Resisting the urge to check out the suspicious-looking links saved on a sticky note, Arthur looked up at his boyfriend.

"So… How were we going to find this so called evidence?" he asked.

"How… How did you…?"Alfred stammered.

"Great minds must think alike," Arthur replied, trying not to look smug.

"Just open the email," Alfred said flatly. Arthur clicked on the icon, and the program opened to reveal the inbox. The shorter boy moved the mouse towards '_Subject: Piano threesome tonight?_', but Alfred grabbed the mouse and steered it towards the '_Sent_' category instead.

"But Alfie…" protested Arthur, "Gossip!"

"I hardly think we are the ones to be judging things like that," Alfred said, his face going redder as he searched the folder.

"That was completely different! That robotic blow up doll truly had feelings for us!" said Arthur fiercely.

"Shush," said Alfred, "We don't talk about the robotic blow up doll…" He opened the most recent message.

_To: Vargas, Julius_

_Dear Julius,_

_Thank you for acknowledging my request. I trust that any future disagreements and issues between us can be solved with the same level of professional and immediate action, with a focus on mutual cooperation and student welfare. It is, as always, a pleasure to work with you. _

_By the way, have a nice evening ;)_

_Elizaveta_

"What the hell?" asked Alfred, furrowing his brow before turning to his boyfriend, "What does this mean?"

"At least we know who to thank now…" said Arthur flatly.

"THANK?! SHE'S BEEN-"

"Would you rather nearly be expelled? For the second time this week?"

"…" Alfred was silent for a moment, "Hey look, there's another!"

_To: Vargas, Julius_

_Dear Julius,_

_HOW DARE YOU EVEN TRY TO DISRUPT A COMPLEX SOCIAL EXPERIMENT? IF YOU EVEN TRY TO INTERFERE WITH THIS CRUCIAL WORK AGAIN MY FRYING PAN AND I WILL BE HAVING A LITTLE WORD WITH YOU _

_Also, I will make the weird red blinking dots on your bedroom wall go away if you no longer interfere. _

_Elizaveta_

"We're… social experiments…?" Arthur's eyebrow twitched.

"How dare she redefine our beautiful loving wonderful amazing perfect-" Half a thesaurus later, Arthur was yawning slightly as his boyfriend continued to rant, "-Dazzling amazing relationship as nothing more than a social experiment…" glowered Alfred. Arthur leaned away from his boyfriend slowly as the latter took on the facial expression of an angry bull, only to jerk back forwards when he noticed something else.

"Um, love…"Alfred bent down to look at the screen;

_To: Honda, Kiku_

_Attachments: multilevel_recording_manual, area_map, the_art_of_useful_coincidences, because_plot_reasons, internet_history_records_

_Honda,_

_Although I appreciate you trying to incriminate me in all of this (although I must admit it is very entertaining to pretend, and an excellent method of classroom discipline, in case you didn't notice), I must inform you that despite your voice synthesis and surveillance skills being top notch, I don't want to be fired any time soon (that water incident was risky enough!). From here on out you may undertake your 'research' alone – however as it would be terribly unprofessional of me to not support a student in their endeavours, I will provide you with a few useful resources. _

_Of course, as a courtesy to me for this aid, I demand in return a copy of all footage. From then on, I will take care of the rest._

_Elizaveta Héderváry _

_PS You may also wish to alter the last document before returning it to me, for all our benefit. _

Alfred wasn't sure whether to be extremely disturbed, extremely angry or extremely thankful.

"Wait… Kiku?"

* * *

A/N Well I hope I managed to fool a few of you for a moment there XD *crosses fingers*. Hope you enjoyed, and please leave a review! ^_^


	16. Period 15: Chemistry

A/N Hello again :). Apologies for the short chapter! I'm really busy and I don't have much time to write ;_;

Thanks to Alba The Great for reviewing and everyone who followed/favourited :3

Disclaimer: Not mine and never will be.

* * *

"Hello Arthur-san…" Arthur sat down in his seat and turned to his usual neighbour, Eduard, only to find the Japanese boy seated there instead. His eyes opened wide in fear.

"Oh mon ami~" Arthur's teeth clenched as he heard an all too familiar voice from behind him. This was going to be a long lesson.

It was as if the science class only existed to conspire against them, Alfred's overly dramatic brain told him. Antonio was finishing his lunch, sitting at the left side of him, talking loudly and soothingly to a phone that yelled like a foghorn every few minutes and swore like a drunken sailor. Gilbert, sitting to his right, leaned on his shoulder and was using him as a pseudo-arm rest while he talked loudly to Francis, sat another seat to the right.

In front of him were Arthur and… Kiku? His head sunk lower, lower, lower-

**Thud**

Half the class turned as Alfred's head connected with the desk loudly. The American didn't even move for a short while, until a low whine of pain told the room that he was indeed conscious, and able to suffer more.

* * *

"Begin by finishing yesterday's experiment…" said Mrs. Karpusi, pointing to the half formed crystals on the windowsill. Alfred walked over to retrieve his, when he began to feel slightly odd. He felt as if he were on a swaying ship in a terrible storm… Which was like the time him and Arthur were together and they were so madly deeply wonderfully in love and absolutely nothing would ever change that and anyone who opposed it would be struck down-

"What?" Alfred said out loud to himself, startling several students. Shaking his head a few times to clear it, he grabbed the beakers and walked back over to his desk. Which is when he saw red.

"Ohonhon, but why?" asked Francis, leaning over the desk precariously and grabbing hold of Arthur's tie, "It would be _so_ much fun…"

"Leave me alone, twat," said Arthur flatly, glaring.

"Ahem," said Alfred loudly, clearing his throat.

"But think of all the things I could do to you," he said, smirking and tilting his head. By now, it was obvious he had seen Alfred. "I'm so much better than that silly little boyfriend of yours, you know, all I need is your permission and I can show you the best time of your life~"

"AHEM."

"Fuck off, frog face," snapped Arthur, scowling and trying to turn around, but Francis grabbed his chin and stopped him.

"But why, mon cher?" crooned Francis, leaning forwards to run a few fingers through Arthur's short hair and smirking at the death glare he received in return, "I'm sure we could work something out-"

The next second, a long shriek pierced the dull murmur of the classroom. A soaking wet Francis was still half leaning over the desk towards Arthur, Alfred standing over him with empty container and a dangerous look on his face. There was a pause, and Francis slumped back into his seat.

"Alfred, that was a bit mean," said Arthur reproachfully, "He was only messing around…"

"Did you forget you were my boyfriend?" Alfred asked quickly, narrowing his eyes.

"_You poured chemicals over his head!"_ the shorter boy exclaimed, "The few brain cells he has might be dissolving before our eyes!" Francis was too busy staring, glassy eyed, at the ceiling to retort. There was silence, until Alfred began to laugh.

"It's only water," he grinned, "My poor Artie, getting so worried! I'd only kill the guy if he tried to kiss you~" With that, he looked back down at his work and continued with renewed passion. His boyfriend, on the other hand, didn't turn away.

"Alfred," said Arthur curtly, "Don't you think you're being a little… possessive… today?"

"Hm?" Alfred asked, slightly confused, "Not as far as I'm aware…" A small cough which sounded slightly like a laugh escaped Kiku's mouth. Something clicked in Arthur's mind and he was about to lunge and demand an explanation, but Alfred beat him to it.

"Why were you laughing?" he snapped, "Is my boyfriend's enquiry funny to you? Are you saying he's stupid because he totally isn't except geography, PE, music… but I'm sure it's because he's too busy thinking of me and everything he wants to do with me and NOT YOU because Arthur is mine and he would never even think of betraying me. So I really hope you weren't planning to lead him astray because I will hunt you down and-"

"What did you do to him…?" Arthur asked, as Alfred continued to rant. Kiku sighed.

"No point denying it I suppose," he said expressionlessly. Arthur was speechless.

"Wha-what-"

"Relax, I planned to own up once you figured me out," said the dark haired boy, "But I decided to treat myself with something entertaining before I stopped altogether."

"You call this entertaining?" asked Arthur, raising an eyebrow at his still ranting boyfriend.

"Don't forget how much Arthur loves me because I'm the most important thing in the world to him, nearly as much as he means to me but obviously not as much because no love in the world can rival the passion I feel for him and I understand that his primitive brain cannot comprehend it which makes him so innocent and naïve that I have to protect him from the outside world and get rid of anyone who tries to take him from me-"

"Yes," said Kiku shortly.

"And let's not forget the time my beautiful love gave me the most amazing blowjob to demonstrate this love and his very existence makes me want to be with him for every minute of every hour for every single day forever and ever just like our eternal deep bond that will stand for all of time! For some reason Artie this made me think of your butt and thinking about it has actually made me quite horny right now Artie after this lesson I need to get rid of the horrible feeling you have from being touched by someone that isn't _me_ you don't need to be ashamed I'll make you feel good and you'll enjoy it so much and scream my name-"

"… What have you done?" asked Arthur. Kiku only shrugged.

* * *

Later on in the lesson, and it appeared that whatever Kiku had given Alfred was beginning to wear off. Or at least, that's what Arthur could tell, if the way he was now happily chatting away to Francis meant anything. He crossed his fingers under the table for luck and hoped he could last out the last twenty minutes before lunch. Meanwhile, he had only one thing to entertain him. Furnaces.

Wonderful.

"…_is blasted in from either side, iron oxide, coke and limestone are added in the top…" _droned Mrs. Karpusi.

"Hey, hey Artie!" came a whisper from behind the British boy. Sighing, he turned to face his boyfriend, scowling.

"What? Unlike SOME of us, I am trying to listen."

"Let me be the hot air in your blast furnace?"

"…"

"…"

"… I am not justifying that with a reply." With that, Arthur turned back around, pretending to be absolutely fascinated by the chemical equations of haematite reduction. Which of course he was, ahem… He had a reputation to uphold, after all.

"Artie, honey," came that oh-so-irritating voice again. The boy turned again, resisting the urge to punch the American in the face as he did so. He frowned in annoyance that Antonio, Francis and Gilbert all had mischievous smiles on their faces. Well, more than usual. The Spaniard nudged Alfred in the side, causing him to grin widely and lean forwards. Seems like they had been giving him some 'helpful advice'. This was not a good sign.

"…_carbon monoxide then reacts with the silica impurities in the iron oxide to form a layer, which floats above the molten iron. This is called…"_

"D'ya want to ride me, Artie? Because the slag always goes on top." With that, the three of them burst into fits of laughter, earning a glare from the teacher.

"…" Was Arthur's only response.

"What, no denial?" Alfred looked genuinely puzzled. Arthur scowled at the Frenchman, before turning back to look his boyfriend in the eyes.

"No point… I suppose Francis has already told you everything," Arthur glared, before turning back around, fully intending to slap all four of them later.

"Mon ami," Francis smirked across at the German sitting a seat away from him, "You owe me a fiver." As Gilbert reluctantly handed over the money, he leaned across and whispered in the American's ear;

"Kesesesese… Did you know that only 22 countries in the world haven't been invaded by England?"

Alfred's glasses glinted dangerously, as he leaned forwards yet again and tugged on Arthur's blazer before whispering darkly in his ear;

"Artie, we need to have a talk…"

"Fuck."

* * *

A/N

**~IMPORTANT NOTICE~**

There are only going to be two more chapters in this fanfiction, and then I'm going to end it. I'm so sorry! School is starting again and I really won't have as much time as last year to devote to this fic. Just to give you guys some warning :)

**~END IMPORTANT NOTICE~**

Thanks for reading and please leave a review ^_^


	17. Period 16: Getting Fit

A/N Hello guys!

Thanks to Alba The Great for reviewing and everyone who followed/favourited :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing mentioned in this chapter.

* * *

"It's a bit late for a heatwave, isn't it…?" Arthur pulled off his blazer and wiped his dripping brow. The sun shone all too brightly in the September sky, heating the ground to some stupid temperature. The fountain was reduced to a mere trickle of dirty water, and the conkers were baking in their shells. To the blonde, clad in his school uniform and dark scarf, it gave the overall impression of being locked inside an oven.

"Aaah, I love a warm day…" In contrast, Alfred pulled his shirt off over his head and dumped it in Arthur's hands. "Look after these for me, will you?" Throwing his jacket at the smaller boy, he cheered before running out into the sunshine. Arthur, his eyes still adjusting to the brightness, blinked several times.

"What just happened?" He blinked again as he finally took in the scene. "And what the hell is this, topless Tuesday?"

"Good name for it," said Feliks, looking up from the cocktail he was drinking.

"Si, it's nice to get proper weather once in a while so we should take advantage…"

"Proper…" another bead of sweat trickled down Arthur's forehead. "You call this… Proper…"

"Arthur-san, you look like you're about to pass out…" said Kiku.

"R-really?" Arthur asked, teetering forwards precariously, "I'm fine… Just a little… Warm…"

"Nonsense!" a voice from behind Arthur beamed, "He was merely so taken aback by my wonderful appearance it was all the poor peasant could do to keep himself conscious~"

"Go away, Francis," said Arthur deliriously, not even bothering to turn. The Frenchman pushed the other boy into he shade and shook his head.

"Of course not? Why should I when you clearly are enjoying the view." He winked and put one hand on his hip, turning his face towards the sun, "I am gorgeous, non?"

"You know full well I find you hideous."

"What's the matter, mon petit rosbif?" Francis asked innocently, smirking and striking another pose, "My my, is somebody jealous~?"

"Why the hell would I be jealous of an asshole like you?" Arthur scowled defensively, his thick eyebrows knitting together, "That pathetic stubble you call a beard looks like an old hairbrush, your hair looks like it was bought pre-manufactured-"

"Merci, that was my intention-"

"Shut up, twat. Everything about you screams rejected 'Abercrombie and Fitch' model."

"Definitely jealous, I say," chirped Antonio happily, walking over to his friend, "Come on, let's go!"

"… I will destroy you one day…" Arthur glared, as the pair wandered away, "I am going to hunt you down, and crush you and make you wish you were never even-"

"Oh hey Artie!" Alfred asked, sitting down and putting an arm around his boyfriend, "Overreacting again?"

"Consider yourself added to my hit list, twat."

* * *

"Heh, but it's great to have a change, isn't it?" said Alfred enthusiastically, "Right Art- Artie?" The American looked around the empty corridor. "Artie?"

It was now lunchtime, and Alfred finally found his boyfriend within the throng – sulking in a corner surrounded by a purple cloud of depression (or black magic, as Arthur himself preferred to call it).

"Um, babe…" began Alfred slowly, "Artie… What are you doing?" Arthur spun around, started, revealing his bright purple and green spotted face and scorched clothes.

"NONE OF MY SPELLS ARE WORKING," he yelled, "IT'S NOT FAIR IT'S NOT FAI-"

"Whoah whoah whoah…" said Alfred slowly, "Calm down. What's the matter?"

"EVERYTHING."

"Anything a little more specific?" Alfred asked hopefully.

"Everything! Everyone else is so damn muscular! Bloody hell, even that bloody Frog has a nicer body than me!" Alfred pouted.

"But I like your body…"

"_Well I don't_. Gym, now! … Via the toilets." He rubbed at his face pointedly.

* * *

Fortunately for Arthur and Alfred, the school gym was completely empty today. And even more importantly… It had air conditioning. Dressed in their shorts and PE shirts, they reached the new and shiny entrance to the not so new and shiny gym ("We really spent the renovation budget right this year, students!"), and Alfred stopped.

"Artie, you need to fill in this…" said Alfred, pushing a form in front of his boyfriend. The top of it read 'Membership Form'

"Why?" asked Arthur, affronted.

"Because you're, like, using the gym…?"

"So? Why should you force something on me that will clearly traumatise me for months doing this and lead to me being harassed by the PE teachers until I give in and have to become a body builder!"

"You do know that it takes more than one session to get fit, don't you?" asked Alfred warily.

"… My life is a lie."

"…" Arthur coughed and waved his hand.

"But I'm still not signing the form."

"Look, I don't get why you're so adamant about this," Alfred snapped, "Just sign the damn form and I can go and force you to break your arm lifting weights and all that good stuff."

"Because membership means… commitment…" replied Arthur, shuddering.

"Wait, what's wrong with commitment?" Alfred said fearfully, draping an arm over his boyfriend's shoulder and pulling him closer oh-so-subtly.

"Well there's the whole having to rely on the other person for little things… It's mostly the little things, like getting the wrong groceries or FORGETTING MY BIRTHDAY. Let's not forget about resigning yourself to putting up with their irritating habits, especially things like snoring… Snoring annoys me…" Alfred sweatdropped. "And also stuff like when you realise you can't screw anyone else and that's really quite depre-"

"ARTIE LET'S JUST END THIS COVERSATION." Arthur blinked.

"Did I say something?"

In the end, Alfred abandoned the form.

* * *

"Okay…" said Alfred, ignoring Arthur's incredulous look and glancing over the weight rack, "These exercises aren't very hard, so you should probably be able to do them in about five minutes or so…" He handed Arthur a normal sized dumbbell and himself a large one.

"Humph, are you trying to call me weak?" demanded Arthur, "Let me have the larger one!" Alfred shrugged and handed it over, only for Arthur to lurch forwards, nearly dropping it.

"You alright?" Alfred asked.

"I'm… fine…" with both hands, Arthur pulled the 35kg weight up off the floor, "Carry… on…"

"O-kay then…" said Alfred dubiously, "So you grab the weight with one- I mean _both_ hands, and lift it towards your shoulder…"

"So like when you carry the cauldron to the centre of the demon summoning circle and want to see if it's the right blend of blood red, slime green and porridge?"

"If you say so… And then you just lower the arm, okay?" Alfred finished, "So just do about twenty of those, and then we can do some more."

"…"

"What?" Alfred asked.

"I didn't realise this exercise thing required _work_."

"Yeah that must be a huge surprise," said Alfred, "It's not like I had to come here every day for an hour for the whole of last year to get these muscles."

"I just figured you spent most of the time drinking milkshake, eating and talking to people," said Arthur nonchalantly, "You looked far too happy when you came back to have been actually _working out_."

"… You have so little faith in me it's unbelievable."

"Now who's being the one surprised over obvious things?" Arthur scowled.

"Well not entirely…" Alfred trailed off. "Anyway, try lifting the damn thing." Arthur grasped the dumbbell with both hands and tried to pull upwards. And again. And again.

"Do you need some help?" Alfred asked hesitantly.

"I AM FINE."

_**Meanwhile, in the courtyard;**_

"_Yiwan, why is it taking so long to move this box of trampoline parts aru?" Yao asked, sighing as his friend pulled the cart oh-so-slowly towards the door._

"_You'll see," Ivan grinned, looking up to the gym window two floors above them. _

"Um, Artie, you might want to see this-"Alfred was saying, looking out of the window, before he was cut off by a snarl.

"Argh, this is useless! _Fuckoffius_!" Alfred looked up to see Arthur curse the weight towards the open window, sending it soaring across the roof and into the courtyard below. A sound of breaking metal and a startled shout could be heard. Glaring at the balmy sunshine, he sighed and turned back to his boyfriend.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"N-Never mind…"

_**Back in the courtyard;**_

_Yao blinked and looked down at the broken pieces._

"_See, I told you," Ivan grinned. _

* * *

"Let's just move on…" said Alfred slowly. He gently tugged on Arthur's sleeve, moving him away from the weight rack and unsubtly prying the wand out of his hand.

"Hm? Did I do something wrong?" Arthur asked.

"Something like that…" Alfred cringed, "How about we go on something safe, not easily damageable like-"

"The bench press?"

"No…" said Alfred flatly, "I was more thinking something like… the treadmill."

"…"

"They have a TV on the wall over there."

"… Well if you really _insist_." Two minutes later, Alfred and Arthur had successfully agreed on a channel (agreed of course meaning 'argued for ten minutes before throwing the remote at the screen and ending up stuck on the shopping channel').

"Ha-ha, let's go!" Alfred proclaimed, his good mood returning as he hit the increase speed button on both treadmills repeatedly, "I promise you won't regret this _too_ much!"

* * *

By coincidence, soon afterwards a person happened to be walking right past the gym. Curious as to who would be inside on a day like that, they stopped outside to try and identify the voices coming from inside. Aside from the loud gasps and breathless panting, the following conversation could be heard:

"Artie, you know you can go harder than that!"

"Sorry Alfred, but I'm going as fast as I can."

"Are you sure? We aren't getting anywhere at this rate…"

"What are you trying to say, huh? That I'm not good at this?"

"Stop twisting my words, and get on with it or we're going again!"

"THIS IS AS FAST AS I CAN GO DAMMIT SORRY FOR NOT BEING AS _DAMN EXPERIENCED_ AS YOU."

"Come on, we're nearly at the end…"

"Ugh… Alfred I can't… I don't have enough stamina for this shit…"

Unbeknown to the pair, their work out session may have been slightly… misinterpreted.

**A short amount of time later…**

"Now we've finished, I'm kind of glad I did that," said Arthur happily, "Even though I'm covered in sweat now… How can you keep going for so long without?"

"Well for me personally, it's a result of the combination of milkshake, eating and talking to people…"

"Oh fuck off." Arthur punched his boyfriend's arm lightly, "But no, really, I need a shower… Care to join me?"

Unknown to them, a slightly horrified teacher was still frozen to the spot behind them.

* * *

The next day (and thankfully a cooler one), Arthur, to Alfred's surprise, asked to revisit the gym.

"Don't look so surprised," he snapped in reply to his boyfriend's startled face, "I'm sure I saw a bit of a six pack this morning! I want to finish this." Alfred didn't have the heart to tell him the truth, and well, it was boring at lunch and there was nothing else to do. They were just about to enter when a gruff voice interrupted them.

"Excuse me." The pair turned to see none other than their Mr. Beilschmidt face to face with them. Students weren't allowed in the gym at lunch unless they were members. Alfred had quit at the end of last year and Arthur…

"Dammit, Arthur," hissed Alfred, "Now see what your lack of commitment has gotten us into!"

"This has nothing… Well, something to do with it, but still…" Arthur snapped back.

"Look," the PE teacher said, with an almost apologetic tone to his voice, "I have no problem for you… Expressing your affections. But, er… Just try to be more… subtle, next time. Alright?" And with that, he hurried away. The two boys watched him go with some confusion.

"Did you get a word of that?" Arthur asked.

"No clue," said Alfred, "But come on, the treadmill is waiting for you."

"Oh wonderful," the shorter boy replied sarcastically.

"B-but you wanted to come here- I really don't understand you sometimes, Arthur."

* * *

It was only much, much later that the pair fully understood what their teacher had been thinking.

"…"

"…"

"Alfie, I've just realised something…"

"Realised what?" asked Alfred.

"He thought we were having sex." There was silence, before Alfred spoke.

"Oh."

"Yeah." Then, the American's eyes lit up.

"Wait…" he said, a mischievous grin.

"Do I want to know?" said Arthur tiredly.

"I was just thinking… If he wasn't surprised this time…"

"Go on."

"Maybe he won't mind… Next time?" Arthur gasped.

"No, Alfred. No! We are not going to do that it would be indecent and-"

"You know we will," Alfred said, raising an eyebrow. Arthur lowered his eyes and sighed.

"Yeah…"

* * *

A/N Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed and please leave a review :3


	18. After School: Movie Madness

A/N Hey guys and welcome to the last chapter!

Thanks to Alba The Great and furrfurr2001 for reviewing and everyone who followed/favourited :)

Also, to everyone who's ever followed/favourited/reviewed, or even read this fic, I just wanted to say that you guys are all awesome and without you I'd probably have given up on this months ago! All of you are amazing ^_^

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

* * *

Alfred dumped his books on the table and scowled. "Stupid teachers with their stupid work and their stupid assigned reading and all their stupid stuff, when I could be being the hero and kissing Artie and eating… At least I can watch some TV first." He looked over at his boyfriend, sprawled out on the sofa. The _whole_ sofa. Alfred walked over and nudged Arthur ever so slightly.

Nothing.

He pushed a little harder. Still no response.

"… Artie," he called softly. In response, the shorter blonde made a noise of contentment, turning over in his sleep and stretching, taking up even more of the sofa. Alfred grabbed one of the shorter boy's legs and pulled.

"Artie, move over! I need to watch TV-"

Arthur opened an eye lazily, mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'fuck off', and closed it again. Alfred shook his boyfriend.

"_Get off the freaking sofa. _I'm missing the repeat of Captain America!" No response. After waiting for several minutes, Alfred gave up and turned to alternate solutions (which he seemed to be resorting to rather a lot lately, to his exasperation). "Fine, be that way," he said, before turning away and walking to their bathroom. Filling up a large jug with water, he walked back into the lounge and upended the whole thing over Arthur's head. The shorter blonde jolted upwards, spluttering and shaking his head to try and displace the water.

"What the hell, Alfred?" he demanded, looking down at his damp shirt. And trousers, shoes and blazer.

"I'm sorry Artie…" said Alfred sadly, trying to portray his best 'lonely' face, "I just wanted to hug you." Ignoring the utterly confused, speechless expression on his boyfriend's face, he wrapped his arms around the shorter boy. Standing there awkwardly for a moment, Alfred was beginning to move his hands downwards when Arthur slapped them away and stepped backwards.

"Whoa, whoa, no way that is happening after you tip water all over me," Arthur snapped, pushing away.

"It's fine, I already got what I wanted," winked Alfred, holding up the remote he had grabbed from Arthur's back pocket.

"I feel manipulated." Arthur frowned and took another step back.

"I'll make it up to you later," Alfred said, waving his hand, "Right now, I want to watch my favourite movie." Then, he stopped. Arthur was still stood, watching him with an unimpressed look on his face.

"What is it?" he asked knowingly, smirking slightly as he did so.

"The couch is soaking…" Alfred replied slowly.

"Oh? And whose fault would that be?" Arthur asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow before a violent shudder went through his body. He clutched his forearms and shivered. "Anyway, I'm going to get some warm clothes on, so have fun watching your movie on our unpolished wooden floor." With that, he turned around and walked away. Alfred sighed.

"I really didn't think this one through…" Looking in despair at the splintered floorboards, and then at the television, and then at the rest of the room, Alfred sighed in exasperation. Movies were serious business.

The older the students were, the larger and more spacious rooms they were given. This was partially so they had more room to do homework, and partially to prevent students leaving the school by offering flat screen televisions as incentives. So far, it had to be admitted that this policy was successful. Alfred remembered his first few years in the dorms as the worst of his life – nothing says 'getting to know each other', than being squashed in the corner of the room in a bed that seemed to be made for a child's doll than a human, listening to the loud snoring of his classmates and the owls hooting outside (that he was totally not scared of in the slightest).

It paid off in the end though. Their current 'room' was in fact three – a living area, a bedroom and a bathroom. The latter two were fairly nondescript, if two of the most untidy places a human has ever set eyes on. Sadly, they just didn't have the _time_ to colour coordinate shower gels. Or put away their belongings. Their suitcases were still being used as storage seven months into the school year (I mean, those shelves looked weak anyway…).

Their living room consisted of a large, now soaked sofa with a 'unique and abstract' pattern of various stains and drunken felt tip doodling, three small windows that overlooked the gardens, several unused cabinets, equally neglected shelves, and a small table in the corner surrounded by a bench. Similar to the ones in restaurants (which in all fairness was probably where it came from), it was set into the wall and was heavily padded to hide the uncomfortable hardwood from which it was constructed. In the wall next to it was a plug socket. Alfred's eyes gleamed.

"Artie! Get your ass over here and help me move the damn television," he called into the bedroom.

"No thanks, I need to get changed after someone got me _wet_… You've ruined my bloody trousers," Arthur snapped back.

"Well if you want I can get you back into the mood later," called Alfred hopefully, "But right now can you give me a hand? Please?"

"Fuck you." Alfred blinked.

"Yeah, I kind of assumed that's what would happen next but-"

"… I have a feeling we aren't talking about the same thing," Arthur called flatly.

"So is that a yes?" Alfred called back hopefully after a few moments. There was no reply. "Fine!" he called defiantly, "I didn't need your help anyway, watch the hero manage this…" he grinned and rolled up his sleeves, "I'm gonna need lots and lots of canned food…"

Twenty minutes and a complex system of improvised pulleys made from jumpers and baked bean can rollers later, Alfred hoisted the far-too-heavy-anyway television onto the kitchen table. Damn, where was his strength when he needed it?! He pouted – he'd missed thirty minutes of Captain America now… And it was all Artie's fault. He glanced towards the bedroom door, noting that it was still closed. Really, how long did it take him to get changed? But right now, there were far more important things to do. He fetched the connecting lead, plugged it into the television-

All the lights in the room went out simultaneously. The TV flashed on briefly, before blowing up spectacularly, pieces of wire and plastic scattering across the table and creating a fair amount of noise in the process. As Alfred watched the wreckage in a state of shock, Arthur threw open the bedroom door.

"What the hell is going on?" he demanded, as slowly the lights began to flicker back on.

"Power surge… destroyed…" tears glistened in Alfred's eyes as he picked up a small fragment of the television screen and cradled it to his chest. Arthur looked down at him, unimpressed.

"That's what you get for pouring water over my head," he said in a matter of fact voice. Both were silent for a few minutes.

"YOU DID THIS, DIDN'T YOU?" Alfred demanded suddenly. Arthur took a step backwards.

"I did _try_," he admitted slowly, "Sadly all I managed to do was double the size of our duvet and turn the mattress into a sheep." As if to prove his point, a small lamb charged through the bedroom door and headbutted Alfred's knee, nearly knocking him over. "Whoops!" exclaimed Arthur, grabbing his wand and tapping the mammal's back. The sheep began re-transforming, and the suddenly expanding mattress did indeed topple Alfred. He fell heavily towards the floor, his skull only saved by the spongy material.

"Oww…" Alfred said irritably, massaging his head and sitting up slowly, "Look, I don't care how or why it's ruined, I just want my movie, okay? Please find some way to change it back."

"So you think I can do useful magic?" Arthur asked, his eyes glittering.

"Y-yeah…" said Alfred hesitantly. He had a feeling he was going to regret this decision, but it was too late.

"It's a very simple spell actually…" said Arthur, shaking his head knowingly, "Easy as pie. You just point the wand and say _televisionus_."

"… That sounds fake," Alfred deadpanned, "And the last time you tried to make pie they had to call in the fire brigade."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Arthur bristled, "What do you think I am, an amateur? _Televisionus_!" In his defence, the broken, twisted remains of the television did transform…

"Artie, why is there a badger in our room?" Alfred asked warily.

"… I have absolutely no idea."

"Maybe I should try instead…" Alfred tried to pull the wand out of his boyfriend's hand.

"Hey, give that back!" Arthur gripped the wood tighter. Alfred only held on tighter, pulling some more until there was a loud bang. The window had exploded outwards, scattering broken glass over the petunia bed below.

"How… are you even allowed… to have… this…in school…?" Alfred grunted, trying to twist the wand out of Arthur's hand as he dug his heels into the floor.

"I'm… not… snuck it in… in a parcel marked 'Sexyllamas Adult Stores'… figured no one would want to check it…"

"Just… hand it… over-" Alfred finished, finally managing to wrestle the wood from his boyfriend's fingers as the smaller boy let go. Caught unaware, he stumbled backwards, again hitting the mattress. It let out an eerie '_baaaaaa_', before the room faded to silence. Arthur tilted his head and frowned.

"Bollocks, the counter spell must not have worked properly…"

"But you said it was easy, right?" said Alfred, tilting his head and waving the wand experimentally. Another window cracked, the floor began to sing and one leg of the table became very nicely adorned in cross stitch. Arthur didn't pay the situation a second glance, while Alfred stared down at his own hands in a mixture of shock and awe.

"It is easy, it was just a small error! Even experts like me make mistakes sometimes," Arthur shot back defensively, folding his arms and scowling. "But see, it's not _that_ easy that a mere beginner could do it. Also, how did you manage to put embroidery on the table leg? I've been trying to do that for month- Not that I couldn't, mind you, I just didn't have the time-"

"_Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the-_"

"Shut up!" Arthur snapped at the floorboards. There was silence.

"Heh, anyway…" said Alfred, carefully pointing the wand towards the TV, "I guess now I do the spell then?" Arthur's face paled.

"NO ALFRED, DON'T ACTUALLY-"

"_Televisionus_!"

"…"

"…"

"Alfred, what the hell have you done?!" The badger had indeed changed… However, said badger in a pink tutu and frilly wig hadn't been exactly what he was going for.

"… This magic shit is way harder than I thought," said the taller boy, scratching his head.

"Maybe… Perhaps I should have that back now?" asked Arthur tiredly, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeeeah…"

**Some time later… **

"Damn! I'm sure this was the right spell…" Arthur scowled, furrowing his thick eyebrows for the fourth time.

"Just try again," said Alfred anxiously, looking up at the clock. Fifty minutes gone…

"_Televisionus_!"

"Privet, comrades! What brings me here on this horrible evening?" a happy voice proclaimed.

"ARTIE MAKE HIM LEAVE," Alfred yelped, diving behind his boyfriend.

"_Televisionus_!"

"Sweet, popcorn!" Alfred exclaimed, digging his hand into the huge bowl which had appeared before them. Grabbing a handful of the burnt (what were you expecting?) kernels and shoving it into his mouth, his eyes opened wide.

"If you get food poisoning again you have only yourself to blame," said Arthur shortly.

"No no no," Alfred said rapidly, "This actually tastes good! This magic stuff really does work!" Arthur blinked a few times in shock.

"Really?" he asked softly, his eyes wide. His fingers clutched the edge of the table in shock and he almost looked on the verge of passing out.

"No," Alfred replied quickly, "But I can eat it and that's a huge improvement! Wait here." Several minutes of rummaging through his rucksack later, he produced a bowl and scooped some of the food into it. Setting it down on the table away from the rest of the heap, he gestured to Arthur's wand again. "Continue."

"I am not even going to ask why you have that in your bag," Arthur said, sighing before raising the wooden stick, "_Televisionus_…"

"Isn't that a clothes mannequin wearing a balaclava and a pair of high heels doing the conga with a neon yellow table lamp?"

"It would appear so. _Televisionus_."

* * *

Several more attempts later, Alfred finally, finally peered cautiously at the large TV now sitting on the table. It looked alright… He pressed the remote and the screen flickered into life.

"Ah, it seems to have worked," said Arthur, smiling and looking rather pleased with himself. Alfred pounced. Arthur let out a startled yell; "Alfie, get off me!"

"You mended my baby…" Alfred exclaimed, stars in his eyes, "You mended her, you mended…" He stroked the top of the screen lovingly, still holding Arthur around the waist with his other arm, "I love you, flat screen entertainment…" Arthur's eyebrow twitched.

"A-hem."

"Hm? Oh wait… you said you doubled the size of our duvet." Alfred got up and ran into their bedroom, returning with the oversized, cottony object a moment later. Grabbing the bowl of popcorn and placing it on his lap, he wound the duvet around his shoulders and side. It was only when he reached his arm over to wrap around someone else, when he realised something was missing.

"Artie," pouted Alfred, watching as Arthur turned to walk away, "Watch the rest of the film with me? We even have popcorn now." He gestured to the bowl sitting on his legs.

"If you think I'm going to eat out of your lap you have another thing coming," Arthur said curtly. Alfred shrugged and grabbed some, offering it to him.

"How about my hand then?" He grinned and threw a kernel at Arthur's face. The shorter blonde caught it in his mouth, and a few seconds of chewing later, spoke.

"Well, it's a little on the raw side… But if you insist." Five minutes of finding _exactly_ the right cuddling position and fighting over the duvet later, Arthur pulled out his book and ignored the screen, while Alfred gazed at it, enthralled. All in all, it was a very comfortable evening.

* * *

As the credits rolled, Arthur closed the last page of _Hamlet_ with a definitive snap and rested his head on Alfred's shoulder. Alfred sighed and reached for the last few kernels of burnt popcorn.

In the end, being here wasn't so bad. If you discounted the idiots, the arguing, the way that living through a single day felt like a drug trip… But it was alright in the end. Even if the school library was going to be a theme park, even if the majority of the students (and a fair few of the teachers) were beyond the scope of normality, even if he couldn't have a single afternoon to himself-

Oh who was he kidding? This place sucked.

To be honest, there was only one reason why he stayed.

"I love you, Artie," Alfred mumbled sleepily, resting his head on top of his boyfriend's.

"Why are you being so soppy all of a sudden?" Arthur replied coldly, but small red flush appeared on his cheeks and he snuggled under Alfred's arm a little more.

"Artie! You're meant to say it back," Alfred scowled.

"Fine," Arthur said, smiling slightly and cuddling into his boyfriend, "I love you too."

* * *

A/N Wow I seriously hope I didn't make that too cliché XD. Thank you to everyone for reading, please leave a review if you want and have a lovely day/night~!


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